


A Small Change

by scenesterwiener



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Multi, i dont know how to use ao3 please help me, the author (me) is mean to jordon, what do you even call this im not sure if theres a specific tag for this specific fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenesterwiener/pseuds/scenesterwiener
Summary: What if you woke up in a world that wasn't yours anymore? That was a question Jordon Terrell never asked but received an answer anyway.





	1. A Grandiose Headache

**Author's Note:**

> hjkjaskhsjsdk i posted this on Wattpad around November last year so no i'm not stealing ~*anything*~ aright???

"Fuck off!"

Jordon stormed to the bunks, covering his ears and shutting his eyes.

"Jordy, hey, we said we're sorry!" Dylan tried to grab him by the shoulder but he only brushed him off, pushing him as he did so.

"I don' wanna hear all'a your fuckin' apologies!" Jordon sneered, the slurring in his speech very prominent.

Jorel sneaked from the door. "Dyl, let 'em be," He beckoned. "let him cool off or somethin'." He scratched his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

Dylan glanced over to his friend, whose cheeks were flushed nearly deep red from the alcohol, and over to his other friend, who looked tired, upset, and surprisingly sober. "G'night, bro." He walked away without another word.

Jordon bit his lips, sliding into his bunk with difficulty. "Fuckin' 'ell." He muttered.

Somehow, he managed to successfully crawl into his bunk, albeit, not so gracefully as one might expect.

He lied one his back, staring straight ahead in hopes of letting sleep overtake his dread.

"Jordy?" A voice called his name.

"Don't 'Jordy' me, Daniel." Jordon barked.

"Oh, sorry." Danny slowly opened the bunk curtains, a bit of light shining on Jordon's face.

Jordon squinted his eyes. "Oh, fuck off, dude." He smacked Danny's hands away and closed the curtains.

Rather than giving up, that only caused Danny to poke his head inside the bunk. A grunt came out from Terrell. "The fuck do you want, asshole?" He spoke through his teeth.

"I dunno," Danny shrugged. "a kiss goodnight, I guess."

It would make sense, for the two have been dating for some time now. Five years, nine months, one week, and three days to be more precise. They know the rules of "Don't date your business partners" all too well but, for they were not business partners, but life-long friends! And soon-to-be life long partners as well.

"Well, yer not gettin' any tonight, sweetheart." Jordon bit with cutting regard. turned the other direction. "Not after what you said about-"

"Okay! I mean- okay." Danny cut him off. "I'm sorry about what I said, I really didn't mean it! I really didn't! Cross my heart!" His voice wavered.

"Damage is done, Murillo." Jordon said, the irritation visible in his voice. "You're a lil' too late for those apologies of yours." He hugged himself, slightly curling up into a ball. "Just do me a favor and fuck off, will ya?"

" _Oh,_ " Danny whispered, clearly hurt by his lover's words. "okay, I'll leave you be, I guess." His voice going shakier by every word.

" _Goodnight._ " Danny hesitated to leave.

Not a word was heard from Jordon.

" _Bye._ " Danny finally left, leaving the man be.

" ** _Good riddance._** " Jordon breathed.

One might think being drunk and high could knock you out cold, but Jordon would beg to differ. He became restless; tossing and turning to feel more comfortable, but alas, it seemed impossible to do for him. It wasn't too long before he sobered up completely in the middle of the night.

He groaned and hissed, a grandiose headache coming from the early symptoms of his hangover. However, this felt different from the average headache hangover, nay, not different, but insufferable, near deathly even. His lungs felt like they were on fire. His heart palpitated to the point it felt nonexistent to the senses. His body completely numb to any form of touch. Each momeny that passed became harder for him to move.

Jordon could barely think, or even breathe; the world was spinning. He considered rolling out of his bunk, but that would cause more problems than solve any.

It was no use, he could barely breathe. Either he called for help or suffer all night long with an unbearable migraine. Jordon quickly opened the bunk curtains with the little strength he had left.

He was losing consciousness fast, so much so that his eyes were rolling till only the white was seen. Breathing only felt like a memory to him, just like everything else he loved, loves, and will love.

 _Bang!_ He hit the cold hard floor side first. What was already dark became darker as his vision faded into nothingness, however, he did hear one last thing before he left.

"Jordon?!" A choir of voices called his name.

And then? silence consumes.


	2. A Strong Scent

Light was slowly making its way back.

Breathing was slowly becoming easier.

Sensation was slowly starting to hurt.

"Fuck... me..." Jordon groaned.

He awoke on the floor of the tour bus; sweaty, sticky, and in desperate need of a shower.

With a few tries, Jordon shakily got up. Vertigo taking over momentarily. His body ached but became somewhat bearable over time.

His senses started to come back to him, starting with his sense of smell. Speaking of scent, it reeked inside the bus, as if someone took a shit, vomited on it, and cooked it in a crock pot. There was also a strong scent of cheap weed and alcohol.

Jordon took a hand towel that was in his bunk, along with his wayfarer sunglasses and Lakers snapback.

Funny, it looked a bit different from the one he wore, the fabric felt like synthetic leather, and, although it felt new, it didn't feel like it was taken care of; it felt wrinkly and somewhat damaged. Which was weird because Jordon took pride in wearing his hats.

He held onto it. Walking into the main lounge of the bus, he opened the refrigerator and examined its insides for anything to take a quick bite on.

The fridge looked like it's been through black Friday. Everything was disorganized and toppled over, some food items haven't even been closed properly, most look like they've already passed their sell-by date.

"Jesus Christ," Jordon said to himself. "the fuck happened here?"

He threw a coughing fit, the rancid stench radiating from the fridge made his soul depart from his body. He got two water bottles before closing the unholy refrigerator.

Jordon quickly opened a water bottle and drank it till it was dry, he opened the other water bottle and poured a bit on the hand towel. He used the damp towel to wipe his skin from all the grime and dirt he was covered in.

Weird, was he always this dirty? No, it can't be, even if he didn't shower for two days he wouldn't be this disgusting. Damn, he needed some deodorant stat.

He glanced over to the rest of the room, where was everybody? Normally there'd at least be a few of the members scattered here and there, not even the tour guys can be seen.

Suddenly, he heard... laughing? It sounded somewhat familiar.

Jordon followed the noise, it turned into a chorale of few, but harsh insults. There was also a strong scent of whiskey, weed, and beer, so strong that Jordon could taste it in the air.

He opened the door. Creaking loudly, Jordon took a peek inside the back lounge.

"Heyyyyy, Jordy~" Dylan called. "How's it goin', ese? We missed ya~" he winked, biting his lips.

"Hey, Dilly." Jordon stuck his hand out the door and waved.

George was lying down on the couch, upon noticing Jordon's presence he sat up and coughed a bit. "Jord!" He coughed. "Come, sit with us!" He patted the now free space for Jordon to sit on.

"Okay." Jordon meekly replied, closing the door behind him and sitting down next to his friend.

Things were very different, the lounge looked very disorganized and filthy. There were empty pizza boxes scattered across the room, rolled blunts and cigarette ash everywhere, and- dear God, is that cocaine?! Jordon shook his head, what the fuck is going on?!

His friends looked different too. George was built, one might even say muscular, he wasn't trying to hide his physique either; wearing a tight-fitting Suicide Silence T-shirt with a thick, gold chain. George was also wearing skin-tight ripped jeans. He also wasn't wearing a beanie, exposing his... not bald head, instead, an army cut.

" _Huh..._ " Jordon thought to himself. " _Seriously, what the_ ** _fuck_** _is goin' on?_ "

"You like what'cha see~?" George elbowed Jordon.

He shook his head, shit. Was he caught staring? I mean, not that he's turned on, but, damn...

"Oh, you like  _that_  sloppy second?" Dylan jumped in, gorging down a large pizza slice. "Please, the real deal is right here." He gestured his body, emphasizing his crotch area. Dylan bit his lips seductively.

Speaking of Dylan, what the fuck is he wearing? He brandished a silver name tag with "Funny Man" engraved onto it and blue jeans with an ungodly amount of chain accessories,  **only**  blue jeans; no shirt. Dylan's curly hair was tied to a ponytail. And speaking of his hair as well, it was dyed a pale yellow from the ends to halfway up, giving it a two-toned effect of black and yellow.

"Uhh..." Jordon was left speechless. He stood in silent dismay- or, well, "sat" in silent dismay. "Hey, where's Jay?" He changed the topic, his voice raspy.

"I'm right here, dumbass." Jordon turned his head, seeing Jorel with a black Slayer T-shirt the the band's album: Repentless, printed on it. Jorel was also wearing a multifold of chains in many different widths and sizes, some studded with jewelry, others shining against the light. One chain did stand out however, it was the one that stayed in the exact middle; not hanging too high or too low. On its bling, there was a pentagram with a goat's skull in the middle.

" _Well, that's one thing that hasn't changed._ " Jordon thought.

Sadly, one thing  **is**  different with his friend, albeit indirectly. There was a man resting his head on Jay's lap. Jordon couldn't make out who he was, for the man's back was turned away from Jordon.

Jorel took a slice of pizza from inside a Pizza Hut box next to him, devouring more than half the slice in one bite.

Jorel? and  **meat?**  How? As far as Jordon is concerned, Jorel is the preachy, vegan, anti-dairy farm veggie-vegan! Not that Jordon had a problem with it or anything, but one time, Jay and George got into a heated argument about sliced ham. "Jorel, aren't you-"

"Aren't I what?" Jorel cut him off, glaring at him with murder eyes. Jordon was too scared to say anything else.

Make that two things that've changed.

"Is Jordy awake now?" The man sluggishly asked, turning to the other side.

" _Aron?!_ " Jordon squeaked, his eyes widening.

"Yee." Aron replied. "Yo, I saw ya fall down from the bunk a while ago. I wanted 'ta help but George said you'd be okay."

"Uh, I think I'm fine." Jordon checked his arms for any bruises or cuts. "Hey, where's Daniel?" He peeped

"Danny?" George echoed.

"Hmm..." Dylan stroked his goatee, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I can hook you up with plenty." Jorel smirked. 

"Y'know," Jordon gestured his hands in the air. "Daniel? Danny? Murillo?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Never heard of him." George crossed his arms in defeat.

"Doesn't ring a bell." Dylan shook his head.

"Never heard of a Murillo. Though, if you're talkin' about one of our tour guys, there's prolly a Danny in the other tour bus." Jorel picked his nose.

Jordon shook his head. "Another tour bus?"

"Yeah!" Dylan gleed. "We got anotha bus so that we can have this place all to ourselves! Remember?" He tilted his head.

If Jordon could wake up from this hellish nightmare willingly, he would. How the fuck are they able to pay for the expenses of a second tour bus?! I mean, it wouldn't be  **that**  high, maybe. But think about the money they could  **gain**  from not getting a second fucking tour bus!

He felt his stomach tie itself up in knots. Not bald George? _Hair dyed Dylan?!_ _ **Carnivore Jorel?!**_  Also why the fuck is Aron here? Where the fuck is Daniel and why don't the guys remember him?

" _Oh, God. Is this all some sort of prank? A joke?_ " Jordon thought." _What, did they get little Deucey on this too_?" He continued. " _Or some weird doppelganger son of a bitch? Is Jorel eating some substitute-ass shit in that pizza? Did they mess up the entire fucking bus for this? Did Dylan dye his goddamn hair with that temporary die or something? Is George motherfucking Ragan wearing a motherfucking wig or some shit? Where'd they leave the tour guys? Are they up fucking the roof?_ " He laughed.

Of course, everything he said sounds crazy and unnecessary. But that didn't stop him from thinking those thoughts. In fact, he thought about them so much that he accidentally threw himself into a state of panic, insanity, and hysteria, laughing internally as his breath shortened and cold sweat started dripping down his neck.

To keep it brief, Jordon passed out.

_Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really bad at writing lmao


	3. A Different World

"Hnnggg..." Jordon groaned, waking up from the scent of... something.

Oh, it's weed.

"Jordy, wake up." Dylan spoke softly, lightly shaking Jordon's shoulder.

A grunt was all that Jordon could muster up. So naturally, he grunted.

"Atta boy." George praised. "C'mon, get up." He lended a hand.

Jordon reached out to said hand, sitting up. "Thanks." He pleasantly thanked.

He had hoped that everything would go back to normal, but, like all stories go, it wouldn't go back to normal so easily

Rather than waking up back in his bus, Jordon woke up in the exact bus he woke up in before passing out in the bus he'd been in before. Confusing? It should be. Poor Jordon was confused too.

"Damn, you've been out dead for thirty minutes." Aron said, placing his hands behind his head. "Good thing Dilly here told us weed would wake ya right back up."

"It's gotta be the good kush too, none o' that cheap shit." Dylan added. He held a lit joint.

Jordon, upon further inspection, realized that the "good kush" is nowhere near high quality, it looked and smelled like is was grown in a crack in a sidewalk by a two year old. Hell, a two year old can take better care than whoever the fuck sold them that stank shit.

"Bro," Jorel lazily called out. "the fuck happened to ya?" He was still on the couch, lying down, as if he didn't bother to help Jordon in any way. The amount of white powder around his nose and mouth did nothing but supported that theory.

" _Great, he does cocaine now?_ " Jordon's inner voice sneered. " _What's next, there's a random ass animal in the tour bus like those 80's rock bands used to have_?" It mocked.

Suddenly, he heard... oinking? Oh, god. Is there a fucking pig in the tour bus?

"Mike!" George and Dylan gleed in unison.

"She must be hungry." Dylan ran out the room.

Aron jogged to the other side of the lounge to retrieve a tiny, brown, hairy pig. He wrapped the pig around his arms, carrying it like a puppy.

"Is that a fucking pig?" Jordon barked, his face wrinkled up.

"Excuse you, she's a  **hog.** " George corrected. "A Pygmy Hog tuh' be exact."

"And she has a name too." Jorel ganged up. "And it's Mike."

"Mike?" Jordon repeated.

"Yeah, Mike." Aron assured. "Short for Microwave."

"Jordon," Aron looked worried. "Are you okay? Looks like ya forgettin' a lot of things." He endearingly rocked Mike like a baby.

Before Jordon could even say a word, he was cut off by George. "Ehh, he'll be fiiiiine." He sassily flicked his wrist in the air.

Aron could only give a half-assed smirk as a reply, Jordon could tell from the internal pain in Aron's eyes.

Dylan came back with a handful of... What the fuck is that?

"What the fuck is that?" Jordon pointed.

"I found a buncha bugs near the fridge!" He grinned, holding out an assortment of brown to black bugs. "She must'a been real hungry! She didn't eat a thang the whole day."

At this point, Jordon was irritated. He just wanted to get back to the way things were. Things don't really seem like a joke anymore; this is serious. This is all happening right now.

"So where we headed?" Jordon asked, in hopes of actually getting a straight answer.

"We're actually headed home right now." Aron kissed Mike's head. "We just gonna have a stop off... Somewhere." He added. "I don't really remember, sorry."

Jordon widened his eyes "Oh, no. You don't have to apologize." Apologetic Aron? Things are only getting more and more stranger than the last.

"C'mere, Mikey!" Dylan called. "It's lunchtime!" He jogged over to Aron, who was holding the pi- hog. Dylan held out the bugs and the hog chowed down, making loud oinking sounds.

Honestly, Jordon didn't want to spend another second in this bus. Everyone-- Besides Aron, is fucking delusional and completely insane. Well, from the looks of it, it looks like everyone-- besides Aron, thinks he's fucking delusional and completely insane.

"Welp," Jordon got up. "I'm going."

"Where you headed?" Aron asked.

"Just to the front, I guess." Jordon shrugged.

He shook the guys off and headed out the room, he trekked the awful smell of the bunks. Few of the curtains that covered a bunk were broken, tattered, or just straight up missing. Jordon assumed that the neat curtains were the ones that should've belonged to the tour guys.

When he went back to the front, he saw a woman sitting on one of the couches. She had black smokey eyes with dyed blonde hair and black roots. She was wearing a black leather jacket, black undershirt, black pants with a chain wallet, black boots with silver studs, black drummer gloves, a black choker, and black studded bracelets with big silver studs.

" _Sheesh, a goth? Really?_ " Jordon thought. " _Who the fuck is she and what's her deal?_ "

The black-clad girl looked up from her phone. "Oh. Hey, Jordy" She waved. "What're ya doin' here?"

Apparently, this girl recognizes him. Knowing that things would get weird if he asked who she is, he decided to play it cool instead. "Just got bored." He shrugged.

"Nice." She smirked. "Get over here." The girl motioned.

Jordon decided to sit next to her. He doesn't trust her, not yet at least. She doesn't seem like a groupie that the guys just picked up from nowhere. He also felt like he's seen her before, but he couldn't make out  _exactly_  who she was.

"Hey, you aight?" The lady asked, her head tilted.

"Huh?" Jordon shook his head. "Uhh, yeah. Why'd ya ask?"

"You jus' look too serious." She noticed. "Horsie said ya fell from your bunk; hit ya head." She tapped her left temple twice.

"Horsie?" He whispered to himself. "You mean Aron?"

"Yeah, Horsie. Horseface. Aron Erlichman. Fuckface Mcgee. Weasel Cunt. Unicorn Dick. Horny Bunny Rabbit. Richard Fap. Absolute Disappointment Of A Brother. Fortnite Kid. Skinny Penis. Dead Viner. Gay. Ass Blaster. Bitch tits. the list goes on." She rambled.

" _Brother?_ " Jordon said to himself. " _Is she Aron's sister?_ "

"Arina?" He peeped.

"Yeah?" She looked at him.

Jordon shook his head. "Nevermind."

The door opened and Mike came inside, running around the room.

"Microwave!" Arina beckoned, in almost a motherly tone. "C'mere, you hoe-hog."

Her eyes immediately widened, Jordon wasn't sure why though. That was then when Mike started chewing on the corner of the couch. "Hey! Mike, stop that!" She stood up.

Microwave started to run around the lounge, wreaking havoc.

"Mike!" Aron yelled, stepping in. "Oh, fuck!" He tripped on his shoelaces and landed face first on the floor.

"You stupid bitch!" Arina pounced to try and catch the renegade hog, emphasis on "try". She only landed on the floor face first herself. She and Aron looked up at the same time, locking their eyes at each other.

"What the fuck did you do this time?" Arina bit.

"They said I should let 'er loose!" He motioned the to the back.

Arina got up. "What? And let her shit all over the place? She's not even wearin' a diaper!" She scolded.

"We ran out!" Aron reasoned.

"Tch." Arina practically leaped and caught Microwave in one swoop. The hog temporarily resisted, but ended snuggling in her arms. "Don't ever let her out of your sight unless she's wearing a diaper, 'aight?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay! Okay..." Aron stood up and took Microwave back into his arms.

Jordon felt... Well, it was something he couldn't describe. It was a mix of fear, dread, pain, lethargy, and irritation. Witnessing a wild hog chase between siblings is really isn't something you see everyday, unless you live in a farm or somewhere in Beverly Hills.

" _Wack._ " Jordon squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of everything going on around him. Honestly, nothing could really top carnivore Jorel in terms of the "What The Fuck" factor.

Out of curiousity, Jordon decided to search up random things about pygmy hogs. He took out his phone, an IPhone X with a clear red jelly case. Even though it had a password, he seemed to zone out and complete the pin code immediately. Jordon was slightly amused on how he even managed to keep his phone with him while inside the bus. To his surprise, he found out that pygmy hogs are in fact, an endangered species.

" _Oh, fuck._ " His eyes widened. " _We could get fucking arrested..._ " Jordon looked back over to the Erlichmans, playfully petting the small hog.

" _How the_ _ **fuck**_ _did we even get that pig?_ "

"Ya can't even take care of a fuckin' hog." Arina called out. "Look! She's got a bruise!"

"I'm sorry." Aron squeeked.

" _Yikes._ " Jordon said under his breath. " _He's a fuckin doormat._ "

Jordon thought about it, and thought about what happened with his friends; his family; everything going on in the world. Is Trump the president? Is Marilyn Monroe alive? Is Johnny Cash still the greatest singer of all time? Where the  **fuck**  is Daniel? Have the inflation of prices finally stopped? Does everyone still fight for their rights?

Now would be a great time to pass out now for Jordon, maybe this time he'll  _ **really**_  come back to his world. That, or he'll make a complete dumbass of himself again. He'd rather not let that happen twice. Plus, he doesn't really feel like blacking out anymore.

The poor confused man didn't know what to do anymore. He just hoped that, with a stroke of luck, the bus would stop and he would take a second to look at the world he was in right now. He then realized that windows existed, what a dumbass. Jordon took a peek and saw a field of tall grass greenish-yellow in hue, a forest peeking over the horizon. It looked peaceful, almost too peaceful, as if the scenery came straight out of a commercial. He sat in awe of the almost plastic world he was in.

"Enjoying the view, Jorts?" Arina called. Jordon fluttered his eyes, snapping back to reality.

"Uhh, I guess?" He blurted out.

Arina rolled her eyes. "It's pretty boring out if ya ask me."

She's either seen Narnia or is completely fucking delusional but, to Jordon, it's the best view he's seen since... Something, he doesn't know. For some reason, he felt really drawn to the view. It felt comforting in an almost scary way.

Jordon widened his eyes, he suddenly got major vertigo even though he was just sitting down, and that he already drank an entire water bottle before hand. It felt like getting a hangover, but instead of it being slow and painful, it hit him all at once.

He shook his head, maybe getting some asprin will do the trick, or any kind of painkiller as long as it isn't cocaine or cheap fucking weed, because that's all there seems to be in this hellscape Jordon was in at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oink oink


	4. A Tongue Piercing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa

"Jordon!" Aron yelled. "Your nose! It's bleeding!"

"Huh?" Jordon sniffed, the smell of blood definitely present, his hand reached over to his nostril and, yup,  _definitely_  blood.

To save the siblings from further worry, he got up quickly. Sadly that only made him lose his balance and fall down the couch again, blood dripping down on his shirt. Was it mentioned that his shirt was Supreme?

"Hey, hey! Jord!" Aron ran towards him, grabbing a conveniently placed tissue box along the way. "Here, here. C'mon, stay with us Jordy. Don't blackout again..."

"Snort too much coke there, Jorts?" Arina snickered.

"Hey, it's not funny!" Aron squabbled. "What if he has dengue or somethin'!?"

"Oh, can it, Horsie." Arina rolled her eyes. "He's prolly havin' internal bleedin' in his brain or whatever."

"That's even worse!" Aron absentmindedly shoved more tissue in Jordon's face, causing the man to suffocate a bit.

"Mmph!" Jordon muffled through all the tissues, blindly trying to grab Aron's hand to stop him.

Eventually, while Aron and Arina were busy bickering to each other, Jordon managed to grab Aron's arms.

"-no,  _you_  shut the fuck up- huh?" Aron paused.

Jordon swept all the tissue off his face, blood smeared everywhere. "Eugh..."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Aron attempted to wipe the blood off Jordon's face but Jordon lightly smacked his hand away.

"I'm gonna go take a piss..." Jordon slowly limped to the door, blood drying on his philtrum, otherwise known as that thing above the upper lip and below the nose, yeah, that thing. Just some trivia for the folks out there.

Aron reached out to Jordon. "You gonna be okay, Jor-"

"Don't worry about dat, bro! He'll be fiiiiiiiine." Arina cut her brother off. "Right, Jordle?" She gently caressed Microwave.

"Uhh..." Jordon double blinked, eventually giving out a reluctant nod. He exited the scene, leaving the siblings to their own business. He actually felt sorry for leaving Aron alone there. Although he never interacted with Arina that much in... his world? Jordon is certain that Arina wouldn't belittle her brother like that, isn't Aron the older sibling as well? That's a little fucked up, just a little bit. Just a teensy-weensy bit.

Jordon made it into the bus' restroom, which is actually a bathroom now. " _Huh, since when did this have a shower?_ " Jordon thought out quietly.

Speaking of other weird shit, how did he even get in the bathroom to begin with? He just remembered that he was thinking about Aron and Arina's current state, how did he end up here? Did he just do an autopilot thing again? Like his phone's password, yeah, that could be it.

He looked into the... disgusting mirror. "Fucking gross." He said, trying to look for a slight semblance of his reflection. God, from all the gucci looking shit the guys have, they couldn't even hire someone to clean their shit up? Oh, right. Everyone else is in "another tour bus".

He shook his head, Jordon took his not-so-clean hand towel and opened the faucet. He swiped the hand towel across the running water and harshly wiped the mirror of all the nauseating gri- oh, sweet Jesus, is that cum?! Jordon then squeezed the towel of all water, leaving it only somewhat damp, and wiped the mirror again.

After his vigorous attempt, he was victorious. His reflection was now as clear as day. In fact, a little too clear...

"What the fuck?!" Jordon yelled, closely examining himself. He checked his nose, his lips, his eyes, the insides of his eyes, ears, mouth- when did he get a tattoo  _there?_  Fucking hell, shit just keeps getting weirder as time passes by.

Speaking of tattoos, he had them  _everywhere_. All over his body, on his neck area, all over his arms, he even checked on his stomach and, yep, tats and ink, he didn't want to know if he got a tramp stamp or any other kind of weird shit on his body.

"What the..." He whispered, looking at his ears and, if it weren't obvious enough, he has... piercings. To put the icing on top, they're gold, bedazzled Louis Vuitton earrings.

"You've gotta be  **shitting**  me!" Jordon yelled once more. "Fuckin' piercings?! Really?! Jordon, what the  **fuck**  were you doing?" He told his past self, or, his past self in the alternate dimension he's in? None of this is making any sense to him.

Oh, but it gets worse. Out of frustration, Jordon bites the insides of his mouth. He feels a strange metal taste in his mouth, specifically in the middle of his tongue.

" _Fucking- a_ ** _tongue piercing?!_** " Jordon stuck his tongue out the mirror and aggressively scratched the back of his head. "Goddammit!" He kicked the base of the sink.

"Jord?" Soft knocking came from outside the bathroom door. "You 'aight there, dude?" It was Dylan.

Jordon took a deep breath in, and out. "Uhh, yeah, just need a minute."

"Sure? Sounds like ya jackin' off." He joked.

"Yeah, I'm  _fine._ " Jordon dryly emphasized, rolling his eyes.

"Cool," The Mexican replied. "jus' holla if ya need anythin', aight?" He requested.

Jordon sighed. "Yeah..." He nodded.

He placed both of his hands firmly on the edges of the sink. His shoulders stiffened, he stared intently at his reflection.

"What the fuck did you do, Terrell?" Jordon whispered. "Why are you here?"

After a few moments, he eventually calmed down, doing one last 4-7-8 before marching towards the door and swung the door open.

"Woah." George raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"You look like shit!" Jorel threw an empty beer can at Jordon, which Jordon so wimpishly dodged.

Dylan smiled, his teeth beaming. "Oh, hey! Ya ain't dead!"

"Uh, yeah, yeah!" Jordon shone an awkward smile at Dylan, scratching his nape.

Luckily, to end Jordon's internal state of uncomfort, Arina kicked the door open. "We're here!"

"Where?" Jordon blurted, mentally slapping himself in the face.

"Uh, where else, dumbass?" She made a face. "Portland  **fucking**  Oregon." 

"Oh." Jordon raised his eyebrows.

"Hometown, baby!" Aron appeared behind Arina, to which she responded by pounding his head with the side of her fist.

"Fuck outta here!" She shoved him into the lounge. "Better warm up, skinny penis!" She growled, like, an actual growl, like an actual dog. "Don't wanna sound like shit live!"

"He sounds like shit all the time, it wouldn't make a difference anyway." Jorel barked, his eyes pointing daggers at Aron.

Dylan placed his hand on Jorel's shoulder. "Bro, dude, buddy, don't be so harsh on the guy." He lazily smirked. "Bad or not, he's tryna do his best. Right Aron?"

Aron reluctantly nodded, fidgeting with his fingers.

Jordon bit his lips, now feeling more sorry than uncomfortable. The way the guys and Arina treat Aron was very similar to how Aron treated Danny when he was still only a touring member. Oh, Danny, how Jordon missed him so much, it was like a hole in his heart, a bird without a bee, a vape without its juice, a glass of beer without its tiny shot of whiskey; he felt very much alone without his emotional support twunk.

God, Jordon didn't even know if Danny was  _alive_ , or even in the same country anymore. Is he still pursuing music as a career? Or is he in a boring desk job? Is he taking interest in the weed industry? wait, is weed even  _legal_  in this universe dimension world shithole? Is he a fucking crackhead? Or a meth dealer?

" _Snap out of it, Jordon._ " He told himself. Jordon looked at the mess that was Aron and Arina wrestling on the floor, George cheering the both of them on, Jay and Dylan arguing about some random crap, and Microwave running around in circles and letting out tiny "oinks".

Jordon was having none of it. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stomped his way out into the bed bunks. He found his bunk and climbed into it, putting a pillow on his face, he let out an exasperated groan.

He had to get out of here, fast.


	5. A Stupid Question

After about five minutes of whining, Jordon opened his phone. Only now he noticed that his background was a photo of a half-rolled blunt that's extremely jpeg'd, God, he couldn't even invest in a decent background, not that it even costs a lot to have a phone background in the first place.

Jordon decided to check his Instagram, though apparently he's locked out. He then goes to Twitter, where right away, there are  _so many_  things wrong right off the bat.

" _Who the fuck is Jake Paul?_ " He muttered to himself, scrolling through Twitter day mode. His eyes were burning from the brightness, he swiped down from the top screen to find the control center or whatever the fuck it's called, after a few failed attempts he let misery take over and continued scrolling down his timeline.

All he found was a bunch of weird shit; Jake Paul, a bunch of wannabe rappers with "big" and "lil" in their handles, weird political shit that he didn't understand, and... youtubers? What the fuck.

" _What the fuck?_ " Jordon furrowed his eyebrows, his irritation and anger boiling up the more he scrolled, all the tweets he saw were just some hot garbage, no,  _complete_  garbage. Not a single person on his timeline knew anything about being a decent human being. There was so much dehumanizing shit that could really make other people's blood boil, but for the sake of brevity and making more than a couple folks angry, let's not get into specifics.

Even through all the sick fucks on Twitter making Jordon want to bleach our his eyes, there was one tweet that really caught his attention.

@ MattyBusek

We're #1 in the polls boys!

Hmm, MattyBusek? As in, Matthew Busek? The one and only Da Kurlzz? It better be. What does he mean by "Number one in the polls"?

Jordon decided to investigate, he tapped on the profile and yeah, the profile picture  _is_  Matty alright, although why does he look so... different? His hair is slicked back and cut  _short_ and he's smiling so awkwardly into the camera with the American flag behind him. Matt also got a little bit of chub in him.

He looked through Matt's profile more in hopes of clearing up one of his many confusions, but things only seemed to bring up more questions. However, on thing was cleared up though.

Matty was gonna be president.

Well, not exactly. Half of it is true however; Matty is running for president. You read that right, running for the president of the United States of America. Jordon felt a mixture of pure disgust, pain, and secondhand embarrassment. I mean, yeah, he knows that Matty had a bit of an obsession with politics and metaphorically sucked Donny Truck's fat fucking political cock, but, really, running for  _president?_  I mean, isn't it 2019? Jordon was pretty sure it was, why were there elections? Unless...

Jordon pressed the home button and went on Goog- Safari? Oh, right, Apple product.

He searched "Donald Trump" on Safari. The top results being being something along the lines of "Donald Trump Assassinated!" and "America's President Dead In Ditches." The whole thing reeked of "Yikes" and "Thank God". Each news article regarding Donny's "death" dated back to 2017, meaning he's been dead for some time.

" _So some knucklehead decided to kill him off before it was too late? Good._ " Jordon said to himself. But wait, if Donald Trump is dead.. Did Matty  _seriously_  take a chance in politics? Huh, but aren't guys covered in tats looked down upon,  _especially_  in places of law? Like, what the fuck? And how the  _fuck_  did Matty even qualify in the first place? The guy seriously has several DUI's! None of them are just official, because he's never been caught, but that's between you and Jords.

To prevent any further brain damage, Jordon turned off his phone. He really wished he wasn't here right now, but that's gonna be a little bit harder than it sounds.

Okay, no more panicking this time, Jord.  How and why did you get here and is there a way for you to get out? Those were the main questions Jordon had to answer, but sadly, he didn't really know where to start.

He stared into the ceiling of his bunk; he was honestly stuck at this point.

The door that lead to the lounge slammed open, the guys' feet stomped the feet of the bus, imitating an earthquake. Jordon let out a pain-filled groan.

Dylan opened what's left of Jordon's tattered bunk curtain. "Jordy!" He yelled with enthusiasm. "C'mon out, shithead!" He smacked Jordon's face repeatedly.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" Jordon's voice was raspy and tired sounding. He crawled out of his bunk and followed the others without a second thought.

Once he reached the outside, it felt like breathing slightly fresher air. Emphasis on "slightly" because the American air is complete crap, but to Jordon, any air is so much better than the one in the tour bus.

Jordon took a deep breath in, cherishing all the fresh air before heading back inside that hell of a tour bus.

The tour bus was parked right in front of the venue, as for the venue itself, it was pretty standard for a venue, actually it looked kinda familiar to Jordon.

"Hey, where are we right now?" He nudged Aron's shoulder, because he's the only sane person he could talk to.

"Oh, uhh, Portland, Oregon." Aron answered.

"Well, yeah- but, no, like- what venue are we at right now?" Jordon corrected himself.

"Ah," Aron nodded. "Mcmenamins Crystal Ballroom. Why'dya ask?" Aron tilted his head.

Jordon shook his head. "Oh, nothin'. I just forgot."

"You forget a lot of things, Jordy." Aron pursed his lips. "Sometimes ya gotta lay off the cocaine."

"Cocaine?" Jordon's eyes widened, he wanted to drill holes into his ears just so that he could hear what Aron said more clearly.

"Yeah, cocaine."

Aron let out a cough, a possible sign of awkwardness and uncomfortability. To prevent further cumbersomeness, Jordon let out possibly the most stupid and ironically cumbersome question that came out of his mouth so far. "So, how's Matty doin'?"

Absolutely stupid. A stupid question indeed.

"Mmmmatty?" Aron dragged his words, his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating.

"Y'know, Matty, the one who's possibly gonna be the pres?" Jordon gestured his hands.

"Oh,  _that_  Matty, um..." Aron narrowed his eyes, biting his lips.

Jordon tilted his head. "What's wrong?" He held onto the fear that he did something terribly wrong, which isn't too far from the truth.

"Well," Aron scratched the back of his head. "didn't ya say that you weren't gonna talk about him anymore? Much less think or mention him?"

"I said that?" Jordon blurted out, he was much too curious to care about that at the moment, but he will eventually.

"Uhh, yeah?" Aron scrunched his face.

"What happened between us? Did I say something bad?" Jordon held Aron by the shoulders.

"Well, I dunno, you think I'd know?" Aron shrugged. "I mean from what Jay told me, you got mad 'cause Matt was more passionate about politics than music and cut y'all off, you still follow him on the socials though which doesn't make a lotta sense, but I won't judge what y'all do with y'alls life."

"Huh, is that so?" Jordon slowly let go off Aron's shoulders.

"Hey, motherfuckers!" George yelled, carrying two carriers of Starbucks drinks. "C'mon, get your asses movin'! We don't got all day, y'know?"

"Ah, comin'!" Aron replied reluctantly, he jogged his way to George, his lanky build making him look increasingly stupid. Jordon shook his head and brisk walked his way instead.

"C'mon, you pansies! Don't wanna be late for our concert, you dumb fucks!" George's raspy voice echoed into Jordon's ears. A shiver went down Jordon's spine, and frankly, down other parts as well, but let's not go there, not yet at least.

Jordon reluctantly shook it off as something like the climate. " _What the fuck was that?_ " He thought to himself.

Arina was standing right behind George, she poked her head out of George's built physique. "You heard the man, folks. Get your asses movin'!" She hooted.

"So this universe has George and Arina as some kind of dynamic duo or some shit?" Jordon thought out loud. "Wack."

Aron accidentally went several strides too far from the two assholes, with Jordon catching up with him. "S-sorry." He gasped for air.

"Whatever." George rolled his eyes. "Here, carry these." He handed over the two cup carriers to Aron.

"Yee." Aron's voice squeaked, giving Jordon secondhand embarrassment.

"Where to, big guy?" Arina elbowed George.

"Sound check, where else?" George smirked, his aviator shades reflecting the sunlight.


	6. A Second Thought

"-and where'dya put Mikey?" Arina raised her eyebrow.

"Uhh, she's with the staff." Aron kept his head down.

"Good."

God, the tension between the two siblings made Jordon wince. He didn't really know what was going on between the two, but he knew that it was  _never_  that bad, right?

Jordon accidentally bumped into a pedestrian. "What the fuck, dude? Can'tcha see I'm walking?" The man said.

"Oh, sorry." Jordon responded in a monotone voice. "I was jus' thinkin'."

"Think about where you're goin' next time, will you?" The man barked.

"Hey," George's raspy voice bit. "leave him be, he's havin' an off day, okay? Now  _scram_." He firmly held Jordon my the shoulders.

George's terrifying scowl and his extremely-but-not-too-extreme build was enough to turn the stranger white.

Shadows that casted by George's face made him look far more terrifying than he should be. "Let me rephrase," He coughed. " **fuck off.** " George growled with utmost terror.

The stranger squeaked and ran off in an instant, leavinng George gave a satisfied grin. "You alright, sweetheart?"

Jordon let out a weak cough. "Ah, yeah, you?"

"Perfectly fine." He nodded.

" _Yo, what the fuck?_ " Jordon cussed appropriately. What the fuck, indeed. Piecing together some instances the past couple hours, there seems to be some things Jordon can do without a second thought, like his phone's password or navigating his way to the restroom- er, bathroom. " _Damn, I'm good at this analysis shit._ " He thought to himself, truth be told he really isn't, he just watches too much movies. Shh, don't tell him that.

In the front of Mcmenamins Crystal Ballroom, there were a large group of people waiting in front, they cheered at the sight of the four walking.

"Shh, just ignore them." George whispered.

"Why?" Jordon tilted his head.

Arina squeezed Jordon closer to George. "Why not? It makes us look cooler." She shrugged.

"By  _ignoring_  our fans?" The rapper squinted his eyes.

George huffed. "Dude, what's your problem?"

Jordon let out a small squeak, similar to how the stranger from a while ago squeaked.

Meanwhile, Aron was waving to the camping fans, small "hello's" and whatnot. The usual things a less-than-mediocre celebrity would do when meeting fans outside. Arina shook her head in apparent disappointment.

"Charlie! Johnny!" A young lady in the crowd called out. "Can I have your picture! Please?!" She beckoned.

Jordon lightly shouldered George. "C'mon, just for once? Not for me, but for the fans."

George gritted his teeth slightly. "I thought you were a bit camera shy?"

"Anything for the fans." The smaller man cracked a nervous smile, in hopes of changing the strikingly brawny man's mind.

"Fiiiiine," George sighed, rolling his eyes. "but I'm doing this for you, okay?"

"For the  _fans._ " Jordon corrected, sneering smugly.

George shook his head, a slight grin plastered on his face. "Don't push it."

"Hey, guys." George greeted, the crowd of fans cheering on for that simple action. "Hey, how're ya doin'? Oh, that's cool. Nice to meet you." George kept a non sequential conversation with the fans. "Hey, nice jacket. Hi. Hey. What's up? I'm doin' good, you? That's great." He nodded along.

Arina nudged Jordon's shoulder. "Ya really know how'ta get to him, huh?" She smirked.

"It takes just a  _little_  bit of persuasion," He put the tips of his index finger and thumb close but not touching each other. "And a  _lot_  of good looks." He winked.

"Gross." Arina playfully shoved Jordon. "Fuck outta here, dude." She snickered.

"I could say the same about you." Jordon pushed Arina back.

"No, you." Arina shoved.

"No, you." Jordon pushed.

"No, you!"

"No, you!"

"No, you!"

"No, you!"

After some time of pushing each other, Jordon looked over to George, who was enjoying the attention the fans were giving him.

"Y'all wanna see a muscle?" He hyped up the crowd, some of them had their phones up, presumably, maybe obviously recording George.

"Aight, here you go." George indeed flexed a muscle causing the majority of ladies and the not-so-gentlemen to squeal and howl.

Arina jokingly shook her head. "How does that guy  _not_  have a girlfriend yet?" She sniggered. "Or even a boyfriend!"

"He doesn't have a girlfriend?" Jordon looked over to Arina. "Or a boyfriend?" He added.

"Uhh, duh?" She made a stupid face. "I mean, neither do I, or Dilly, but George? He's on another level, yo." Arina sneered. "The guy is too afraid of commitment; he's a total pussy when it comes to relationships!" She gestured to George, who was still flexing in front of the fans.

"He does nothin' but watch romcoms and fantasize about relationships, but when it comes to the actual thing, he pussies out like a total pussy!" She motioned her hands. "God, he could pick up any chick at a bar for a quick fuck, but does he do the same when it comes to picking up the slack and get his shit together to get a chick to be in a committed relationship with someone? No!" She raised her voice.

Arina was left in a frustrated, out-of-breath mess. "Are you okay?" Jordon reached his hand out, but Arina smacked it.

"Yeah," Arina stood up straight. "Just needed to get that off my chest." She sighed. "Y'know, you're actually a good listener if you're not bein' an asshole so much."

"Thanks." Jordon nodded, slowly becoming more aware of what kind of person he is in this different world he's in.

"Okay, guys, I- I mean,  _we_  gotta go now, we'll see you all later though, bye!" George waved the fans goodbye. But the fans only "aww'd" in sadness.

"We'll see y'all later! We promise!" George jogged away, Arina and Jordon followed.

While Jordon was brisk walking, he heard a series of huffing and puffing behind him. It was Aron.

"Yo, where were you?" Jordon asked.

"Sorry, just- just said hi to some fans." Aron caught up to Jordon.

"Well, damn, dude." Jordon slumped his arm over Aron's sweaty shoulders, to which he internally regretted but can't back out from. "Are you gonna have an asthma attack? You sound like the big bad wolf." He joked.

"I'm f-fine."

"Hm?" Jordon noticed that they walked past the venue. "Hey, guys. Isn't the Crystal Ballroom that way?" He pointed to the building with his thumb.

"Yeah, but like, we gotta run some errands first." Arina reasoned out.

"What kind of errands?" Jordon tilted his head, his question ignored.

The rapper looked at Aron, then looked down on his hands which are carrying the two cup carriers. "Need any help?" Jordon offered.

Aron was unresponsive for a moment, but only for a moment. "Huh? Oh. Uhh, nah, it's cool. I can handle it."

"You sure? It looks like you're struggling a bit." Jordon furrowed his eyes.

"It's fine, don't worry about me." Aron gave a sad smile laced with pain, making Jordon's chest ache slightly.

"No, you know what? Give me one, c'mon." Jordon reached out his hand.

Aron pursed his lips for a second and gave him a carrier. "Here, jus' don't tell 'em I gave one to ya, aight?"

Jordon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. " _God, please don't tell me they won't even let people help him..._ " He shook his head.

The four entered a 7 Eleven. "Y'all get whatever y'all want." Arina waved her hand around.

George immediately went for the booze, and Aron rushed to the chips and sweets, Arina grabbed several bags of doggy diapers and packs of instant noodles and other reheatables.

Jordon felt out of place seeing the three looking so busy getting consumables and- is George getting disposable underwear? Gross.

"See anythin' ya want?" Arina carried a shopping basket full of random shit.

"Uhh, I dunno." Jordon shrugged. "I'll go look around." He walked around the convenience store to search for anything that would pique his interest. Normally, this is the part where Jordon would be too distracted and focus on why he's been randomly teleported into another realm of sorts. But, he decided to ignore those thoughts and got two cans of cheddar Easy Cheese, wet wipes, dry shampoo, and some breath mints all while carrying the Starbucks cup carrier.

"What's with the shampoo?" George raised an eyebrow, he was carrying four six-packs of beer and two bottles of vodka.

"Felt a little dirty." Jordon shrugged, looking at the can of dry shampoo.

"Well, you're gonna feel a lot more dirtier in a while~" The taller man winked, walking towards the cash register.

Jordon shook his head furiously, what did George mean by  _that?_  Are they gonna- but that's- they could never. They  _would_  never, would they? No, impossible. George is just flirting, right?

By now you'd know what's about to go down, but let's wait for that, shall we?

Arina crudely pushed Jordon to the side. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see ya there." She winked. The blonde looked at the amount of items Jordon was holding. "What's with all that shit?" She sneered.

"None of your business?" He phrased his statement like a question. "What's with all the noodles?" He asked a question back.

"Uhh, 'cause I'm hungry?" Arina's eyed narrowed. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" She tilted her head, lightly shaking the 

Before Jordon could say anything, his phone buzzed in his pants' pocket. He couldn't reach it since his hands were full of disposables and a coffee carrier.

"Here," Arina took Jordon's phone out, successfully opening his phone's password. "Dylan said, 'Where y'all at?' With an emoji of a man shruggin' and a shaka sign." She imitated the shaka sign. "'We need y'all for sound check' with an emoji of a microphone and three music notes." She continued.

Jordon didn't really know how to respond to the message. "Tell him we're at 7 Eleven."

"'We out at the store, y'all want anything??' Two question marks and three dollar signs." She stated out loud. "Aaaand send."

A moment passed and another notification came by.

"'I need your asses here, stat!' with an angry dude emoji." She pouted. "Now what?"

"Tell him we'll get there as soon as possible." Jordon dictated, giving his desired items to the registrar. Wait, that sounded wrong, nevermind. I'm sorry.

"'Be there in a sec, homie' with a shaka sign." She smirked. "You can thank me later." She shoved Jordon's Iphone back into his pocket.

The two of them walked out of the store. "Whatever..." Jordon shook his head, rolling his eyes, knowing he can't  _stand_ to be around any of the newly changed band members.

"Hey!" Aron called out.

"C'mon, baby!" George beckoned. "We're gonna go to Taco Bell!"

"Hey, loser!" Arina came up from behind Jordon, dragging him to the other two. "What're ya cunts waitin' for?" She laughed. "First two to shit their pants onstage'll get pantsed!"

On second thought, maybe he  _could_  stand them _._ Just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kjasjkajskshkajskjaskk


	7. A Fantasmagical Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao im really bad at writing actions. i like to think im decent at writing dialogue though so *shrug*

So our knightly hero, Sir Charlie Scene of Californialot is on a fantasmagical journey to find the ancient Mexican temple known as Taco Bell located in the kingdom known as Portland, Oregon. Along with the Arina Chloe, a rebellious but religiously faithful nun who has rejected the idea of a toxic theocratic government in trade for spreading the word in a safer manner with less... sacrifices; minstrel Jonathan Tears III who is a bard rejected by society in search for a true love, and lest we not forget, Sir Charlie's trusty steed, Big Deuce, whom Charlie found nearly starving to death in an abandoned stable.

Together, they look for the antediluvian artifact known as the "Crunchwrap Supreme **®** " which will grant the four anything they truly wished for from deep down their hearts.

Bardsman Jonathan Tears III pointed towards north "Look, there it is!" Alas, after nearly a quarter of an hour, they have finally reached their destination, Templo De La Campana De Taco.

"Fuckin' finally!" Big Deuce neighed in glee.

"God, how hard is it to find a Taco Bell?!" Arina Chloe, the clergy wailed, throwing her hands in the air. "Fifteen fucking minutes!" She solved her own riddle.

"Why did they even have to relocate?" Jonathan Tears III scratched his head, his free hand placed on his hip.

"I mean, there's still a Taco Bell, so that counts." The knight made a less than futile attempt to calm the three down. "C'mon, let's just get a take-out and run back to the ballroom, the guys must be fuming by now."

"Ehh," The bardsman shrugged. "they can wait a few minutes."

"Can they?" The knight tilted his head.

"Nope!" Jonathan Tears III declaimed in ironic glee.

At last, our heroes journey is not closing to an end, from the wretched lake of the caffeine merpeople, to the numerical monk of the black market. The long voyage was truly worth it, but it was the friends you make along the way is what truly matters the most.

Our heroes entered the grand sanctuary with the utmost poise and composition. " **Where the fuckin' tacos at?!** " The clergy calmly inquired.

The folks inside the place of worship looked at them rather oddly. "Please refrain from swearing." One of the guards requested.

"Fuck outta here, maaaaaaaan." The nun hushed the guard. "We finna get this shit, yo." She cracked her knuckles.

"Whaddya mean you're out of Crunchwrap Supremes **®**?" The bard yelled in anger. Before the merchant could have anything else to say, Jonathan Tears III interrupted. "No, then you might as well not have anything else!"

"George..." The knight, with all his power, tried to sedate the angry bard.

"Dude, bro." Big Deuce followed suit, using his hooves to prevent Jonathan from doing any further harm.

"Consume a phallus, f'r art thou a rampallian wench!" The bard cussed, pointing a finger.

The stallion decided on taking charge of handling the resisting merchant. "We'll just take a Mexican Pizza, thanks." He sighed.

And so it goes, the four puts their journey near to an end. Although they didn't get exactly what they want, the memories along the way was truly the real Crunchwrap Supreme **®**.

"Well, that fuckin' sucked!" The bard huffed, crossing his arms.

"It's okay, we still got ourselves some Taco Bell." Arina Chloe shrugged.

Sir Charlie Scene felt a quivering sensation in his pantaloons, his farspeak! (cellphone) Sadly, he could not reach it, for his hands were too full to carry anything else.

"Lemme do it." Arina Chloe had held both the carriers of the Mexican Pizza and the trades from the medieval 7 Eleven on one arm. With a stroke of luck, Big Deuce has somehow convinced the nun to haul the Mexican Pizza. "It's Dilly."

"'Yo where the fuck you at, homie?!' in all caps with three angry faces." Arina Chloe spoke aloud. "'If you ain't here by five minutes I'mma cut ya dick off!' In all caps again plus an emoji of a knife and an eggplant." She continued. "Oh, he also sent a middle finger, an angry emoji with the censor bar in the mouth, and another middle finger."

Jordon could've sworn he heard a record scratch when Arina said those following text messages from Dylan out loud. God, he was so caught up with Taco Bell and 7 Eleven that he forgot about sound check the entire time! What time does the actual concert even start anyway?

He shook his head. "Oh, shit! We gotta go now!" Jordon sidestepped his way to the front of the three.

George's heated expression quickly mellowed down. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?" He grinned. "They can wait a little longer, y'know?"

"Are you sure about that?" Jordon turned his entire body to the taller man.

"Nahhh." George shook his head.

"God fucking-" Jordon cut himself off. "It wouldn't kill any of y'all to be even the  _slightest_  bit early, would it?" He winced, expecting negative feedback.

George looked like he was about to give a menacing glare, but instead, he gave what seemed to be a mixture of a smirk and a smoulder. "Well, I could flex my guns in front of the audience again..." He fiddled with his imaginary beard.

"Great!" Jordon gleed, a worried expression plastered on his face. "Well? Let's get outta here?" He breathed deeply, anxiety creeping up his back.

A few minutes passed, luckily they knew how to retrace their steps and wound back up to Mcmenamins Crystal Ballroom. Even more fans showed up and cheered for the four, asking for photographs, autographs, and even their sweat. Sadly, they all had their hand full in a literal manner and could not spend much time with them other than some quick Hi's and whatnot.

"Late," A shirtless blonde man onstage said. "as always."

"Hey, it's called fashionably late for a reason." George defended. "What do you expect?" He lowered his shades.

"I expect all of you to be earlier than..." The man gestured the four. "this."

"We're always like this, what's  the difference?" Arina sipped on a Starbucks cup. "Ew, it's cold."

"Maybe we should've went to Taco Bell first so that the Starbucks wouldn't have gotten cold." Aron bit a hangnail on his finger.

Jordo bit the inside of his cheek. "No, we should've went to 7 Eleven,  _then_  go to Taco Bell and  _then_  go to Starbucks." He corrected. "The newly brewed drinks can save a slightly cold meal."

The blonde stranger shook his head in shock. "You guys went to Starbucks  _and_  Taco Bell?!"

" _And_  a 7 Eleven." Aron meekly stated.

"Well, tickle my asshole pink!" The stranger put his hands on his sides. "I don't give a shit where any of you went! As long as you stick to the schedule!" He ironically added ecstatic enthusiasm into his voice.

"Fuck he schedule, man." George brushed the man's words. "We're rockstars! Not train conductors or some shit!"

While the three were arguing about time management, Jordon crept up close to Aron. "Hey, who is that dude?"

Aron was about to give a confused expression, but shut his mouth instead. "That's Tye, our touring drummer."

"Oh, okay..." Jordon nodded his head, turning around. A large silhouette blocked Jordon's view, he jumped in surprise, letting out a tiny squeak that made his ego crack slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big oof. so much foreshadowing woa~


	8. A Fucking Baby

Jordon's vision adjusted themselves to the lighting. His eyes widened when the picture became clearer.

"Hey." Dylan flashed a slow, lazy smile. His eyelids half open.

A shiver ran up Jordon's spine. He clenched his fists to appear that they aren't shivering.

"H-hey, Dilly." Jordon tried his best to look composed, but ultimately failed.

"Y'all're late." Dylan tilted his head, the stench of cheap weed coming out of his mouth.

"Ye-yeah," Jordon nodded. "are you mad?" He squeaked.

Dylan let out a laid-back laugh. "Oh, I'm fuckin'  _pissed._ " He leaned backwards, almost falling down. "Buuuuut, I'mma be nice to y'all." The Mexican shrugged. "For now." He narrowed his eyes then walked away smiling.

Jordon felt his soul nearly depart from his body. "Oh," He was relieved, but kept the same confused-worried expression. "cool." Cold sweat was dripping down his nape.

"Jordy!" Jorel appeared onstage. "C'mere you fa-"

"Comin' in hot!" Jordon cut off Jorel's words and climbed up the stage immediately. "What'chu need?"

"I need your voice, dumbass. What else were you thinkin?" Jorel sneered.

"He prolly thought ya needed some  **dick!** " Arina yelled, her hands doubled as a megaphone.

Jorel gave a disgusted expression. "Ew, no." He gritted his teeth. "Full offence, Jord, but, you ugly as  _fuck._ "

"Thanks." Jordon nodded, his eyebrows furrowed.

Arina laughed. "He still gets more chicks than ya, Jay."

"'Cause he looks like a fucking baby!" Jorel forced Jordon to turn towards Arina, and pinched his cheeks. "Ladies be weak for babies!"

Arina shook her head. "Tsk tsk tsk, excuses excuses..." She chortled quietly. "Just face it, Jordy's  **way**  more hotter than ya, right Jord?" She tilted her head.

"Uhh, yeah, definitely." Jordon nodded his head.

"Tch, whatever." Jay pouted. "I don't need any of your dick anyway; I have Aron's. right, baby?" Jorel called.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Aron was spacing out.

"C'mon, yall." Tye moseyed over to his drums. "Time for sound check."

Everyone went to their respective places; Arina went behind the keyboard, George fiddled with his bass, Jorel played around with his guitar, Aron did vocal warm-ups, Dylan was attempting to sexy dance, and that Tye guy was looking at all his drumsticks.

Well, everyone  _except_  Jordon went to their respective places. He didn't really know what to do. " _Same instruments, same mannerisms, same dumb shit._ " Jordon thought to himself. " _But everything is so different._ " He squinted his eyes.

"Hey, asshole." Jorel said. "What're ya waitin' for? Play your goddamn guitar!"

Then, Jordon had realized something. His face went pale.

"Can I see the setlist?" Jordon asked, he wiped the extra sweat off his face.

"Sure." Jorel had his eyes glued to his phone, presumably on Instagram. "Just look backstage." He pointed to the way that lead backstage.

Jordon sprinted his way backstage, being greeted by the tour guys and the occasional calling him of "asshole". He frantically searched for a piece of paper or a guy with a clipboard; anything that would look like it has the band's setlist.

Eventually, he saw a piece of paper taped on the wall next to a bunch of light switches. It contained when the concert will start and the band's tracks to be played during the concert.

" _What the fuck?_ " Jordon furrowed his eyebrows, most of the songs didn't seem familiar to him at  **all**. Oh, well. Everywhere I Go is still there, so is Undead, but he kinda doesn't like playing that one anymore.

His face turned white. How was he gonna sing any of the songs he doesn't even know? God, he needed a miracle right now.

"Jords?" A nasally voice echoed through the noise of a bunch of other busy dudes in the room.

Jordon looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Hey, Aron."

"You aight?" Aron gave a thumbs up.

"Yea- no, I'm not." Jordon cut himself off, deciding to tell the truth.

Aron came closer to him. "What's wrong?"

"I-I'm nervous." Jordon looked up, trying his best not to cry in front of anyone.

Some judging glances turned their ways but Aron shushed them and glared them away, he put his arm over Jordon's shoulders. "Why?" He patted Jordon's back.

"I don't-" Jordon gulped. "I don't think I can sing." He breathed heavily.

"What? Of course you can sing!" Aron reassured. "You're like, the most  _skilled_  singer I know! Better than Bowie!"

"It's not that!" Jordon whined. "I mean like, what if I forget the lyrics? Or fuck up and fall off stage?" He looked down at his shaking hands.

Normally, Jordon isn't a cryer, or so he says. Truth be told he's a very sensitive man, he just chooses not to show it until it gets too overwhelming for him. The person he was only ever so open to was Danny and his therapist, but even then they don't know too much about what's going on in his head.

Jordon didn't exactly know why he was crying, well,  _about_  to cry. Maybe it was he thought that he was never going to go back home, or how everyone and everything changed so quickly, but it could also be that he might disappoint every single one of his fans. To be honest, he doesn't even remember all that much about his "home" anymore, a lot of his memories were bleeding out; becoming nothing more than dreams. One thing was clear though, this place wasn't home.

"Hey, hey." Aron lightly shook him by his shoulders. "So ya nervous, huh? Did the stage fright catch up to ya?" He tilted his head.

"Yeah, you could say that." Jordon leaned against a wall, sliding down. "I don't wanna fuck up." He curled up in a ball, hugging his legs tightly. He also had his left hand in a loose fist and placed in on his mouth, an oddly specific nervous tic he has.

Aron puckered his lips, staying silent for a moment, but only for a moment. "Hey, do ya remember the concert back at Jacksonville?" He gave a small smile.

"No, not- not really." Jordon sniffled, he would normally fake it but right now he's not in the right state of mind.

A little laugh came out of Aron. "Well, you were  _so_  awesome." He sat down next to Jordon on the cold, wooden floor. "Y'know, like, Eminem awesome."

"R-really?" Jordon muttered, his eyes lighting up a little.

"Yeah." Aron nodded. "Like, ya fell off the stage, and you fuckin' crowdsurfed!" He quietly giggled. "Everyone in the crowd was singin' lyrics too."

Jordon settled his forehead on Aron's shoulder, getting any kind of skin contact. "I remember I'd always do this with him; with Danny." Jordon mumbled.

Aron motioned one of the staff to come closer. " _Get some Powerade._ " He mouthed-out.

"One time, I said so much awful shit about myself and I wouldn't stop crying. Then Daniel walked in and we stayed up all night watching murder documentaries Netflix." Jordon sighed.

"What's Netflix?" Aron asked. " _And who's Daniel?_ " He thought.

"Whenever we're alone, he'd always say something like 'Are you alright, baby?' and I would blush so hard I'd look like a tomato." Jordon breathed in. "Everyone always makes fun of me when that happens."

The twinkish man just nodded along, he didn't understand a word Jordon was saying, but the Powerade he asked for did come back. "Here, drink this." He offered the electrolyte infused beverage.

"Thanks." Jordon accepted the Powerade, he opened the bottled and drank big gulps.

"There we go, just keep drinkin'." Aron motivated his friend. "You're gonna do great onstage, I promise."

Jordon put down the bottle on the floor. "What if I don't? What if I fuck up?"

Aron just smirked. "Since when did you care about the 'what if's'? Didn't you say you're only about gettin' pussy and never lookin' back?" He tilted his head.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I forgot." Jordon rubbed his eyes.

"Hmm." Aron hummed, squinting his eyes. "Listen, once you get onstage, you'll forget all about ya worries, trust me." He reassured. "The music will take care of everything." Aron grinned, patting Jordon's back. "Well, c'mon. Get up, the guys might need us now." He stood up and offered his hand to Jordon.

"Ah, yeah." Jordon nodded, taking the Powerade bottle and Aron's hand.

"Oh, dude. There's a T-shirt on one of the speakers for you. Because of the, y'know." Aron pointed all over Jordon's shirt.

He looked down, pulling his shirt out slightly to get a better view. "Oh, fuck, dude." The blood from earlier got all over his Supreme Shirt.

Aron nodded. "I know."

The two went back onstage, where everyone was minding their business.

"Hey, y'all. How was the quickie?" Dylan joked around.

"Shut it, Alvarez." Jorel narrowed his eyes. "My baby would  _never_  cheat on me, right?"

Jorel's "baby" was staring off into the floor again. Jordon elbowed him and he shook his head. "Of course, babes."

Arina snickered a bit. "George was gettin' a bit jelly too, right, Georgie?" She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging the significantly taller man.

" _Shutthefuckup._ " George said under his breath, but made it loud enough for the band members to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao idk just take it i guess


	9. A Million Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small error was made in the beginning chapter A Grandiose Headache regarding the timespan Jordon and Danny were dating, it's now "Five years, nine months, one week, and three days". Thanks.

Several hours passed, the concert is about to start, but not before some lucky (and probably rich) fans get V.I.P. access to the worldwide famous band known as Hollywood Undead backstage before they begin to play.

Luckily for Jordon, he excused that he was "a little under the weather" so that he would save himself from the embarrassment of being a complete and utter fool in front of the fans.

But this story would no longer be interesting without his perspective anymore now, wouldn't it?

So for now, let's move on to someone else's perspective(s), for the sake of keeping this story moving. And because I, the ridiculously dimwitted author, wants to make a filler chapter.

Jorel was sitting down on a foldable metal chair, taking a drag from his cigarette. He was observing the fans from afar, Jay noticed that the majority of them were looking for Terrell.

"Where's Charlie Scene?" One fan asked Dylan.

"Have any of you seen Charlie?" Another fan questioned George.

The Italian shook his head, it's always about  _him_ ; always about Jordon. He had no problem with the man himself, it's just how ridiculously popular he is compared to the rest of the band. It seemed a little unfair in Jorel's opinion. Overrated if you will.

Okay, Jay. Calm down a little, you don't want to break your calm, sassy, "I don't give a fuck" attitude just yet. Tour is almost over.

He heard oinking below him. He saw Microwave, the pygmy hog. Jorel picked her up and placed her on his lap, petting her lightly.

"Wow, you  _finally_  have a girlie on your lap, Jay." Arina said out loud, loud enough for the fans and staff members to giggle a bit.

"Haha, very funny." Jorel sarcastically stated. "At least Mike loves me, don't you Mike?" He cooed.

God,  _Arina._  Jorel would say that he's pretty close friends with her, especially since she's the sister of his boyfriend. But,  _god_ , she can be completely unbearable sometimes. They have this on-and-off friendship that neither of them understand, a petty but respectable rivalry of sorts.

One of the fans noticed what type of hog Mike was. "Is that a pygmy hog?"

"Uhh, yeah. What about it?" Arina came closer.

"Well, pygmy hogs are an endangered species that's population is decreasing due to deforestation."

Jorel mentally rolled his eyes. " _Not this shit again_ " He sighed. Everytime someone points out that Microwave is an endangered species, Jorel wanted to throw a bitch fit. " _It's just a fucking pig._ " He thought. Jay always said that everyone's lucky enough that he didn't eat Mike yet, but only because he'd get more meat out of Aron than the pygmy hog.

He decided to ignore the pestering and took out his Airpods and played some N.W.A. "Tch." He scorned, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Aww, that's so sad! I hope Charlie gets better soon." A fan talked to George.

"Yeah, he can still perform, but he'll sound almost as bad as Deuce." George snickered, he looked over at Aron who overheard the conversation, he was pouting slightly with his eyebrows furrowed.

For some reason, George felt a little sorry for saying something like that about Aron, even though he's been saying stuff like that for several years prior, maybe it was because of how Jord treated him the past several hours; seeing genuine kindness from him for the first time in a while. "Um," George coughed. "well, at least Aron doesn't sound  _that_  bad, y'know?" He bit his lips.

"Can I have a selfie with you?" A fan came up to Arina.

"Oh, sure!" Arina smiled. Normally, in front of fans, she tends to be the crude, snappy type. However, she remembered Jordon's words and decided to be a little nice today.

"Thank you!" The fan thanked and moved on to the other members.

Dylan crept up to Arina, he held her by the shoulder and went close to ear. "Hey." He whispered.

Arina wasn't startled the slightest and turned her head slightly to the taller man. "Hey." She greeted back.

The Mexican chuckled. "You bein' a little nice today, you on your period or some shit?" He joked.

"Nah, just wanted to do somethin' different for a change, y'know?" Arina shrugged.

"Chloe? Bein' nice? Never thought I'd see  _that_  in a million years." Dylan slurred, swaying his body backwards and puffed up his chest.

"It be like that, homie." Arina brushed Dylan's hands off her shoulders. "Some things just gotta change I guess." She shrugged.

When one of the fans lost interest in arguing with Jorel, George came up to rescue the situation. "You seem to misunderstand," He scratched his nose. "Mikey  _is_  a pygmy hog, but we rescued her from illegal poachers, we're just waiting the return call from the services to cone pick her up."

"Ohhhhh," The fan nodded their head. "that makes sense."

George frowned. "Please excuse Jay, he's been havin' an off day." That was a complete lie, both the things he said. Well, yes, they got Mike from poachers but, they  **paid**  for her. And Jorel is like that everyday. He felt a little bad lying to an innocent-minded fan like that.

"Ya didn't have'ta do that." Jorel glared, pointing daggers at George. Literally, he pointed a butterfly knife at the taller man.

"Jay, put the combat knife down." George motioned his hand downwards. "C'mon, you're gonna scare the fans."

Jorel scoffed. "Since when did  _you_  care about the fans?" He narrowed his eyes. "Whatever happened to ignoring them to look cooler and more badass?"

"Well, turns out I like the attention I get from our fans, so what?" George shrugged. He isn't up to have this argument at the moment.

"Oh, are you?" Jay jeered. "Or are you just doin' it for  _him_?" He tilted his head. "The guy's been actin' shady lately, don't ya think?"

"You're just paranoid, Jay. Cut it out with the bullshit." George barked, scrunching up his nose.

The Italian descendant leaned forward. "Oh, please. Ya'd do everything for him, and even Arina. But you never gave a shit about anyone else, much less your fans." He snickered. "Right?"

George didn't say a word, because Jay was right. He always had a soft spot for the two; he would always spoil Arina and Jordon with anything they wanted, while leaving everyone in the dust in the process.

He widened his eyes, realizing how much of a prick he was to all of his bandmates, friends, and even family. How unfair he treated everyone up until this point, it was only until Jordon told him to be a little kinder towards the fans is when he realized how awful of a human being he was.

"As much as I'd like to say sorry and kiss your feet, you need a bit of an attitude fix yourself, Jay-jay." George shoved his hands in his pockets, leaving the thumbs out.

"Whatever..." Jorel rolled his eyes and finished out his cigarette, leaning backwards. "It's not like you even cared enough to give a shit about what I do." He looked away from George, putting the knife in his pocket and crossing his arms. "I could get arrested right now and you wouldn't even look at me in the eyes." His voice nearly cracked.

"Uhh..." One of the fans' widened their eyes at the two.

George coughed. "Oh, don't mind him." He mildly jazz handed. "You know how moody teenagers are." He tried to joke in this situation.

Aron was sitting on a bench, he took out his phone and attempted to do an Instagram boomerang of the area. However, each boomerang looked... off, none of them looked too stiff or shaky. After a few failed attempts, Dylan snatched Aron's phone out of his hands.

"Hey!" Aron yelled. "Gimme back my phone, dawg!" He got up from his seat and tried to get his phone back.

Dylan raised his arm high enough for Aron not to reach his phone. "You tryna do a boomerang?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yea," Aron squeaked. "now give it back!"

"Aight, but first I gotta teach ya how'ta do it properly, comin' from a pro, y'know?" Dylan smirked, opening Aron's Instagram again. "See, the trick here is to have a steady hand and go at a moderate speed. How moderate? That's up to the universe, brah. Let the stars and the planets decide the speed of your boomerang." He moved his arm. "Like so."

The Mexican gave the phone back to Aron. "Woah." Aron said, in awe of Dylan's boomerang skills.

"I know right?" Dylan took a deep breath in of a bong that appeared out of nowhere, it just somehow appeared on his freehand. "The universe does some crazy shit to ya."

"Dilly, you're high as fuck right now." Aron shook his head, smiling a bit at how smooth and clean the boomerang is.

"I'd rather be high, happy, and seductive than a grouchy, uptight dude, y'know?" Dylan shrugged. "Bein' in a bad mood all the time makes others in a bad mood too." He sniffed. "Wouldn't want to spread that kind of negativity around, y'know?"

"Cool." Aron nodded. Out of everyone in the actual band, Dylan was always the "nicest", not counting Tye, or Jordon, who's been unusually kind to Aron today. Dylan was either very indifferent, or genuinely helpful in some situations, though he can't exactly depend on him when he gets scolded by the guys or his sister, but mostly because Dylan might get a partial blame on what what Aron might've done, which Aron understand completely.

"Hey!" Jorel called out. "Aron!"

"Huh?" Aron lazily poked his head out from behind Dylan.

"Get over here, ya fuckin' fa-"

"I heard ya the first time, Jay." Aron cut Jorel's words off. "Whaddya need?" He walked over, his head tilted.

"I need you, baby." Jorel cooed. "What else do you think I need~?" He winked.

Aron felt slightly uncomfortable. "C'mere, baby." Jorel pulled Aron by the shirt onto his lap. "Attaboy..." Jorel held Aron's lap and placed it on the Russian descendant's lap, making small circles on his knuckles with his thumb.

Some fangirls and even fanboys squealed without shame or guilt. "A lil' bit of fanservice ain't hurtin' nobody. Right, babes?"

Unfortunately, it  _did_  hurt Aron. Not the fanservice, but how Jay treated him. Now, if you hadn't already noticed sooner, The two are in a relationship. But, it's not the most stable relationship as one would might think. Early on, before their careers as rappers, Aron had crushed very hard on Jay, to which Jordon told him to confess during their tour promoting Swan Songs. Sadly, their romantic journey turned into an affair of empty commitment and heartless sex, according to Aron at least.

The twink doesn't even remember why he fell in love with that bastard anyway. He missed the times when he would go head over heels for Jorel; taking any chances to make him take off his shirt, going batshit crazy when Jorel would smile at him, having... "fantasies" of Jorel in his sleep or even while awake. Aron missed feeling all those feelings he had for Jay.

All Jorel does to Aron now is tell him how much of an idiot he is and asks him for a quick fuck, and the quick fucks are for when Jay is in a  _good_  mood. There would be times where Jorel would hit the back of his head so hard, he would fall over and Jay would call him an dumbass.

"-and that's how my babe here confessed to me, drunk as fuck in my apartment." Jorel finished his story to a bunch of fans. "Right, Aron?"

Aron nodded absentmindedly. "Yee." He faked a smile.

George stood at a corner, massaging the area between his eyebrows and his nose bridge and a cigarette on his freehand. He needed a break from Jorel after having such a shitty, one-sided argument with him.

"'Sup, homes?" Dylan walked over to the Irishman.

"Hey." George's raspy voice replied.

Dylan ambled next to George, leaning on the wall against his back. "What's wrong, bro? Dog's got ya tongue?" He referred to Jorel.

"Ehh, I guess. So what?" The shorter man barked.

"I don't like choosin' sides, but," Dylan swirled his bong. "he's got a point; you don't give too much of a shit about us, bro."

George sighed. "Yeah, I've noticed. I'm sorry." He dryly apologized.

According to George, Dylan was always the straightforward one of the band. One hundred percent no bullshit, whenever something was wrong or out of place, Dylan is the best man to go to in times of trouble, although he might be the more passive one, at least he gave some solid advice. Sometimes, his philosophies can go deeper than George's. However, don't fuck with him, or else he will fuck you up eightfold.

"Don't apologize 'ta me," Dylan smirked. "apologize to everyone." He leaned his head on George's shoulder. "It's the least you could do, that and, buyin' all of us some MickeyD's." Dylan shouldered George's arm.

"Could you tell him that for me?" George requested.

Dylan recoiled and made a confused, extremely stoned face. "Do I look like some kinda messenger to ya?" He tilted his head, laughing as smoke came out of his nose.

" _How are you still conscious?_ " George shook his head. "Please?" He begged, his hands clasped together.

"Well," Dylan fiddled with his goatee. "it won't come for free, homie." He reached out the palm of his freehand to George.

"If you say so." George shrugged and grabbed Dylan's hand, turning it over and kissing the knuckles.

"Gay." Dylan took his hand back, whipping it in the air. "You're so gay, dude."

The Irishman smiled. "I know." George shrugged, eyes closed.

Jorel was still on the foldable metal chair, staring into the distance and looking extremely emo. He was chewing on a now finished cigarette butt out of frustration, his foot tapped the ground very quickly, an immediate sign of anger for anyone close to him.

"Hey~" Dylan greeted, dragging a metal chair swiftly and sitting on it. "How ya doin'?" He tilted his head.

"Oh, hey." Jorel bopped his head. He mentally wanted to throw up at the sight of Dylan's face.

Dylan slouched, his shoulders resting on his knees. "So, George said-"

"Oh, god.  _George._ " Jorel rolled his eyes to the point his pupils were barely seen. "Did he tell ya to talk some sense into me or some bullshit?" He scrunched up his nose.

"Ehh, not really." Dylan shrugged. "I jus' wanted to share a few words of wisdom to a homie." He put his bong on a table, firmly grasping Jorel's shoulder. "Ya gotta stop with..." He used his freehand to gesture Jorel's entire body. "this. It ain't healthy, yo. Ya killin' yourself."

"I'm gonna die early anyway, what difference would it make anyway?" Jay gritted his teeth. He hated it when Dylan is the one who confronts him in situations where he's "wrong". Dylan was always everyone's trump card when it came to Jay and his bullshit. "I  _started this fuckin' band and this is how I get treated._ " Jorel mentally shook his head.

"-the band could agree with what-" Dylan paused his train of thought. "Hey, are ya even listenin'?"

"No," Jorel barked. "can you leave now?"

The Mexican only let out a small laugh and shook his head. "You're not even gonna listen to me, but all I have'ta say is," He crept closer to Jorel, his breath so close to Jay's neck. " _stop bein' a stick up errybody's ass and enjoy life, you selfish prick._ " Dylan whispered in the most sober possible voice, his grasp on Jorel's shoulder becoming painful.

Although Jay rolled his eyes like the edgy son of a bitch he was, he actually felt genuine fear run up his spine. It was always a hell of a trip whenever Dylan became more intimidating, he always got the worst of Dilly in these cases. " _He used to be fun._ " Jorel thought, which isn't inherently false. Dylan used to be more rowdy, fucked up, and upbeat, but one time he had a heated argument with Jordon about whatever the fuck and became... that, that's also half the reason why Jay no longer trusts Jordon. The band seems to enjoy the more passive Dylan, but Jorel does  **not**  approve.

For Dylan however, he believes he's doing what's best for the band. He might be the youngest, but frankly, he's the most responsible even if it doesn't seem like it. Jorel was always a dick up his ass; always starting drama and heat within the gang. It used to be Aron early on in their careers, but something about Jay and Aron's unbalanced, abusive relationship caused the tables to turn. As according to Dylan at least.

"Thirty minutes!" Tye popped out of nowhere. "Let's go guys!" He yelled, grabbing his drumsticks.

"Aaaaand that's the time y'all leave." George clasped his hands together. "Buh-bye!" He waved the fans goodbye.

The fans left, some giving their last hugs before leaving and others going with tears of joy. Some even asked for locks of hair which everyone thought was creepy but endearing.


	10. A Lotta Stuff

"Hey, where's Jords?" Tye looked around, putting on a blue L.A. snapback.

Arina lazed her head back. "He's in the tour bus." She said.

"Well?!" Tye gestured. "Someone get him!"

"Chill," Dylan stretched "we have thirty minutes."

Tye squinted his eyes at the Mexican. "You underestimate how quick thirty minutes pass." He shook his head. "Someone get him here, stat." He twirled a drumstick with his hand.

"I'm on it." George pushed himself out of the corner, walking towards the exit.

"George," A tour guy called. "some chick is outside calling you for..." They flipped through a clipboard. " _Child support._ "

"Oh, god. Not that bitch again." George shook his head. "The kid ain't mine! We already took a DNA result! God fucking-" He stormed the other direction to where that tour guy was.

"Looks like I'll do it instead." Dylan stood up from his seat. "Ain't nobody does it better than Dillyduzit~" He winked, everyone in the room rolling their eyes at his "joke".

After the slowest possible two minutes of anyone's life, Dylan made it into the bunk areas of the tour bus.

He saw the silhouette of Jordon through the small holes in the curtains. "Jords~?" Dylan called out while kneeling in front of Jordon's bunk, waiting for a response. After a few moments of silence he swiftly opened the bunk curtain, showing a tired Jordon lying on his side.

"Mmm." Jordon groaned, blocking the light using his hand. "What do you want?"

"We got thirty minutes till the concert, bro." Dylan placed his hand on Jordon's shoulder. "C'mon, get up."

"Eugh..." Jordon groaned, turning to the other side. "Five minutes."

"Bro, you weren't even sleeping, your eyes're wide open."

"Yeah, so? I'm tired."

"Bro."

"What?"

"Did you cry?"

"What?!" Jordon turned his body back to face the Mexican. "No!" He pouted.

Dylan smirked. "Your eyes are red, and  _not_  the weed kind."

"Fuck off!" Jordon yelled, hitting Dylan with a throw pillow then eventually throwing at him, To which Dylan dodged. "It's not like you'd know the difference between weed and crying eyes!" He yelled in a whiny tone. "Just- fuck off."

"Hmm..." Dylan bit his lips, his eyes looking up at a non-existent thought cloud. "Bro-"

" **What?** " Jordon barked. "What the fuck do you want?"

"'Jus' tell me what's wrong, bro." Dylan shrugged. "I mean, I don't bite or anythin'."

Jordon sighed. "Look, I'm just having a bad day, okay?" He gritted his teeth.

Dylan puckered his lips. "Well, you're havin' more than a bad day, as far as I can tell." He fiddled with his goatee. "You're talkin' different, walkin' different, lookin' different, jus' actin' different in general." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Jordon narrowed his eyes at Dylan.

"I mean, after that lil' argument ya had with Jay this morning you went to bed and after ya woke up n' shit you practically became a different person." He shifted his position to kneel only on one knee.

"Huh..." Jordon blinked quickly. "Aight, move." He pushed Dylan aside, getting out of his bunk.

"Hm? Where ya goin', brah?" Dylan almost lost balance.

"To the stage, where else?" Jordon looked back at Dylan, giving out a sly smile before losing balance and falling down. "Oh, shit-"

Luckily, Jordon wasn't too far from Dylan and the Mexican managed to catch him by merely twisting his body and extending his arms. They were left at an awkward position, Dylan kneeling on one knee with his arms stretched out, while Jordon looked like he was Neo from The Matrix in that one scene where Neo was dodging the bullets and he leaned really far down, only this time Dylan was supporting Jordon's back and Jordon will never look as cool as Keanu Reeves.

"Bro, you okay?!" Dylan's eyes were wide open.

"Yeah, I just- stood up too fast." Jordon shook his head. " _I thought that Powerade would help with the vertigo._ " Jordon whispered.

"Get up." Dylan shoved Jordon's body upwards. "The guys must be lookin' for us, and George must be done arguing with that wench."

Jordon scoffed. "Doubt they would, and George is arguing with who?"

"Just some hot chick he had a quickie with, then she got pregnant but the kid and Georgie's. But for some reason she persists on thinkin' that the kid is his." Dylan explained. "I think she's just doin it for the money and 'cause he's a celeb." He shrugged.

"Huh..." Jordon patted his shirt off for dust, which there wasn't any dust on his shirt he just did it out of habit.

"Oh, you should prolly get ya gear." Dylan pointed out.

"What gear?" Jordon bit his lips, tilting his head at Dylan as they were walking outside the tour bus.

"Y'know, your gear. Your jacket and bandanna with the low waist jeans n' shit" Dylan gestured his hands. "Man, Aron was right, you  _are_  forgettin' a lotta stuff, sure ya didn't hit ya head too hard anywhere?"

"When did he say that?" Jordon asked, ignoring if not avoiding the question.

"Ehh, we was jus' chattin' around while you were in here." The tall man stepped out of the tour bus. "Your stuff should be backstage if I'm correct, I gotta go change too." Dylan looked down at his shirt with a design of a pop art version of Tupac's album All Eyez On Me.

Jordon simply nodded. " _So we all stick to our OG costumes or somethin'?_ " He narrowed his eyes. " _So I guess Dyl will wear something like a black T-shirt, Aron might wear some skinny jeans, wait- what's George gonna wear then?_ "

"Hey, sweetheart." George cooed yet he had a stressed expression.

"Hi, George." Jordon greeted, being mildly shocked at his surroundings. How did he get back here so quickly? "What're you wearing?" He pointed at George's clothing.

"Uh, clothes?" George pulled the hem of his shirt and looked down. "Where's your outfit?" George asked.

Before Jordon could say anything, Aron jogged over to the two. "Hey." He called out. "Jord, here's your shit." Aron handed over a black jacket, wayfarer shades, a bandanna, and blue faded jeans. "Your Gucci belt's over there." Aron pointed with his lips.

"Ah, thanks." Jordon grabbed all of his stuff from Jordon. "Doesn't that look uncomfortable?" He looked down at Aron's pants, which although Aron is a skinny legend himself it seems his pants are literally made for stick figures. "Like, how is it even possible for jeans to be  **that**  thin?"

"Ahh," Aron looked meekly at his own pants, his hands behind his back. "I dunno, really. I just think it's neat." He shrugged.

Jordon made a face that was equivalent to the -_- emoticon. "Yeah, I mean it is, but it's kinda choking your legs."

George let out a slight chuckle. "Wow, since when did  _you_  care about safety? I thought Aron was the worrywart around here."

Aron pouted slightly at George's half insult half joke. "Oh, uhh, sorry." The Irish descendant apologized.

"Wow, since when did  _you_  care about my feelings?" Aron barked back at George, a subtle crack in his already squeaky voice.

The three stayed in awkward silence for a while, but only for a while. "Okay, so, we should get dressed now." Jordon lightly shoved the two aside, away from each other. George looked sympathetic while Aron stared at the significantly taller man intently.

Everyone decided to suit up while they were backstage, it's not like they were going to have an orgy together, plus the additional rule of "no looksies or your mom gay" when it came to non-sexual activities.

"Ten minutes!" One of the tour staff yelled, along with the shrieks and yells of fans coming from the other side.

Jordon's face went pale slightly, but Aron managed to say a few words of encouragement to him. Sadly, the only things Jordon remembered were "you're gonna do great out there". Jorel on the other hand said something much more... touchy.

The Italian descent went up to Jordon, too close in fact. "Somethin's up with you, Terrell. Don't make me find out what." His teeth grit.

Sweat dripped down Jordon's neck, but frankly, it was mostly from how thick his clothes were. God, how did it become so hot all of a sudden?

Speaking of clothing, it was so surreal seeing everyone in costume, even Jordon himself. It was like a nostalgia bomb thrown at his face. He was wearing a black jacket zipped all the way up, low waisted jeans hung so low he felt like his balls were visible, a Gucci belt, black L.A. snapback, wayfarer shades, and some black and white checkered Vans slip-ons.

His "mask" was a usual bandanna but also slightly different. It was something like his latest Five era bandanna. Something black and gold and a lot of text. there were guns, the Hollywood sign, Charlie Scene, and a whole bunch of other things too. It was just the same mask but slightly different too.

Jorel wore something more simple, but made him look more like a junkie at the same time; a simple red polo with black pants and a black L.A. snapback with white high top Converse sneakers. Yikes, Jordon always knew Jay as an Adidas person.

The Italian descendant's mask looked extremely similar to the one from the one he had from the Notes From The Underground mask, only without the gas mask part and crazy light-up shit. There was also small golden chunks in the area where there was magma and the designs around the mask were a slight gold instead of green.

Dylan had a plain black shirt and also really low-hung pants with dozens of chain accessories around it, but it looked much more distressed and faded compared to Jordon's. Also he sported a pair of white Yeezys. This time his horrendously dyed hair was let down and it showed to be a lot more nicer looking compared to it being up, although the dyed parts are somewhat dry, the black are seemed to be very well managed. Dylan's mask looked exactly like his Day Of The Dead mask. Like,  _exactly_  like the original fabric mask only this time everything had a gold outline around it.

Arina didn't really bother to change out from her outfit, not that Jordon really knows if she had an outfit or not. All black garb; she only switched out her leather jacket for a black jacket that's eerily similar if not identical to Jordon's. Her "mask" is just a black Bandanna with a slightly unique pattern.

George was actually wearing an air force service dress. No, not an actual dress, but a formal suit used for army guys when they take pictures to look cooler and more poise, well that's what Jordon thinks at least. There weren't any badges or anything because he's not an actual army man. One small modification was made to the suit however, the suit was unbuttoned, leaving George's incredibly sculpted abs out in the open, the tie was also nowhere to be found. Jordon was sweating bullets at the sight.

Oh, right, his mask. George's mask was actually like the Day Of The Dead mask but only a darker royal blue. The big three is still there on the left and the butterflies we scattered around his face, carved in and painted a shimmering gold.

Aron looked like he just came out of 2007, a sleeveless black muscle shirt that didn't make him show off any kind of muscle whatsoever, extremely tight jeans, a Gucci belt matching Jordon's, and a field cap with a military pattern with a black L.A. embossed in it. He also had matching Vans slip-ons like Jordon.

His mask looked like a rip-off of his Swan Songs original, the mask itself was a silver matte color, but Jordon swears that he could see a slight gold color being reflected by the light. The duct tape on the mask's mouth area was embossed in a stylistic manner and painted a bright neon pink. The tear lines were a bright cyan that wasn't carved but simply painted on the mask. The mask's features were also extremely stylistic and sharp. Out of all the masks, Aron's was the only one that didn't have the completely black eyeholes.

There was a reoccurring theme of gold in each mask, something similar to how all the masks in Five were chrome and shiny. But, to be honest that's not all that important.

"Five minutes!" A tour guy called out, making Jordon snap out of being so overwhelmed at the nostalgia.

"F-fuck." Jordon said out loud, his palms were sweaty and shaking, his knees were weak and arms were heavy. There's vomit on his shirt; mom's spaghetti-

Jordon violently jerked his own head. " _Now's not the time for Eminem! Does he even exist in this universe?!_ " He mouthed out. He peeked out of the backstage, barely enough to not be seen by all the fans, he heard their chants and yells.

" _Undead! Undead! Undead! Undead! Undead!_ "

Dylan smirked and called out for one of the tour guys. "Gimme da mic, I wanna fuck with 'em." He giggled.

A tour guy gave him a microphone, Dylan coughed and turned it on non-sexually.

"Hehe,  _tiddies._ " He giggled.

Some parts of the crowd cheered while the rest gave out a slight chuckle.

"Who wants to suck Charlie Scene's bitchtits? I wanna hear y'all scream."

Nearly the entire venue was filled with overly high pitched squeals and somewhat manly yells.

"Y'all're really up for that? Fuckin' gross, ew."

More laughter ensued.

The Mexican then gave the microphone to Jordon. "You know what to do." He winked, pushing Jordon's forehead with his index and middle finger, making Jordon lose his balance a bit.

"Yeah." Jordon puffed his chest up. This is it, this is all real. His heart felt like it was beating twice as fast, making his hands shake and his feet grow cold.

"Hey," A voice whispered right at Jordon's ear, making the man jump and squeak. "you lookin' nervous there."

"Oh, hey, Jay." Jordon wheezed, it was just Jorel. "Don't scare me like that." He sighed in relief.

Jorel smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized with utmost sarcasm. "I was just worried about you." His voice turned sing-songy. "You look a bit on edge, have you realized that?" He asked, holding Jordon by the shoulder.

"Uhh, yeah, I guess." Jordon gulped. " _Why're you talking like that? You sound like a fucking Disney villain, for fucks sake._ " He thought to himself. "Thanks for asking." Jordon brushed Jay's hand off his shoulder, but this only made Jorel seize Jordon's forearm. "Ow! Fuck man, let go!" Jordon yelled, pushing Jorel away from him but alas, he does not have the strength. "Dude, what's your fuckin' problem?"

Jay only grinned, the red lighting around on his mask making him look more menacing. "Somethin's up with you, Terrell. I dunno what it is, but I'm not lettin' this shit keep happenin', ya get me?" He gritted his teeth.

"Keep- keep happening? What the fuck do you-" Jordon cut himself off, squinting his eyes. "I don't fucking understand!" He kicked Jorel, causing him to let go.

Arina entered the scene, holding both men by their shoulders. "Hey, hey! Both of ya, knock it out, will ya?! We have less than ten minutes!" She reasoned.

"Tch," Jorel sneered at the two. "fuck outta here." He walked away.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. " _Tch_ , well  **you're**  the one who's walking away." She mocked. Arina looked back at Jordon. "Ya doin' aight?" She tilted her head, giving a thumbs up.

"Mhmm." Jordon nodded.

"Kinda surprised ya didn't knock him out or somethin'." Arina laughed. "Though it makes sense to not hit someone several minutes before a gig." She joked, taking out a comb to brush her hair with.

Jordon felt a big lump down his throat, making it difficult for him to swallow. Rarely, when he would get nervous, Danny would tell him everything is alright and kiss him on the forehead. To Jordon, it was the cutest shit ever.

But right now, that isn't happening because Danny isn't here right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not ded yet lmao


	11. A Hopeful Song

"Put'cha fuckin' hands up!" Aron yelled into the mic, running towards the stage right before the opening synth for Undead started playing. He waved his hands in a V-motion while singing, or, if we're being more precise, screaming the chorus.

"Put 'em up! Put 'em up! Put 'em up!" Dylan hyped, jumping up and down.

Jordon was actually surprised on how Aron didn't suck ass at singing in the chorus; his vocals actually sounded pretty close to the studio version. Sure, he's still  _kind of_   sucking ass, but it wasn't as bad as it was compared to...  _previous performances._  It was actually really good for the average person's standards.

George was up, a bunch of cheers and woo's were heard. His voice sounded extremely strained but it was a miracle on how he somehow managed to nail most of his parts, emphasis on "most". He did his usual one-foot-resting-on-a-speaker-and-point-the-mic-at-the-audience-or-rely-on-the-backup-vocals motif whenever he would become out of breath, which worked like a charm every time. Overall, he performed the same way he usually would.

Jordon was up. " _It's fine, I know this song at least._ " He whispered to himself. Jordon felt his breath go shaky as he rapped his bars. He actually underestimated the volume of his voice because he was  **loud**  as fuck. Thank God no one could actually see his face because it looked like he was taking a massive shit, several veins on his forehead were popping out and his face was a bright cherry red. The adrenaline rush he got made his feet feel like air; his heart racing. The crowd's screams drowned any other possible sound that entered Jordon's ears.

Jay's turn. Jordon knew that out of everyone, Jorel always performed the best voice and stage presence wise, the bouncing motherfucker couldn't catch a break. " _Let's see how well he really does._ " Jordon thought.

" _Oh, god. Oh no..._ "

"What the fuck?" Jordon said out loud, pulling out his mic at the last second. "What the fuck? Yo, what the fuck?" He stopped dead at his tracks, standing in the middle of the stage. Words can't describe what Jordon was feeling when he heard Jay "rap", it was just- no.

" _Is this allowed? On_ _ **God**_ _?_ " Jordon violently shook his head, fluttering his eyes.

Oh, Dylan was there too, but nothing really changed about him.

The song was finished, now it was time for a song Jordon didn't know too well. It was called "Let's Get It Crackin'" or some shit. Jordon swears it had the exact same name as that one Deuce song, which made him extremely worried.

Ah, yes. It's a club track indeed. Jordon remembered one time, during the days when they kicked Aron out of the band, Jorel played that song  **once**  before trashing it for good. He no longer has any memory of how the song goes. But it seems good enough to be played live apparently.

" _Time to bullshit your way out of this one, Terrell._ " Jordon hopped three times and hyped up the audience with Dylan while a synth progression was playing. Aron was hyping up the fans too while he was "singing" the chorus.

Though he didn't notice at first, but Jordon was actually singing the chorus with Aron using his "Deuce" voice. The words came out so smoothly but he didn't even know what he was saying. It felt like everything was going slow motion, he could see everyone's faces so clearly through his shades; every motion made.  

It continued like this for the rest of the concert. A song Jordon didn't know or would only be vaguely familiar would play, he'd bullshit it A.K.A. miraculously have the lyrics slip out of his mouth, he'd cringe at Jorel and be amused at Aron, and repeat. All while having his heart beat be so quick it felt non-existent. Oh, and of course, they took off their masks after the third track.

Another track just finished, Jorel drunkenly went up the platform placed at the very front of the stage. "Oregon! I wanna hear y'all scream!" He shouted into his microphone then pointed the mic at the audience. The entire venue was filled with screams and squeals. "C'mon, y'all can do better than that, I said I wanna hear y'all  **scream**!" Jorel emo-screamo screamed into the mic.

" _Jeez, where'd he get_ _ **that**_ _kind of confidence from?_ " Jordon blinked, the energy that Jorel radiated was the same kind of overconfident asshole energy Aron had when he toured with Hollywood Undead in their early days. In fact, everything Jay did reminded Jordon of Aron before. The way he would sneer, heckle, belittle, and, to some degree, even walk and talk. It's as if Aron's attitude from the past possessed Jorel.

Jordon went to the area of the stage that wasn't too lit up. There, he saw Arina looking at the distance, chilling with her back against the wall, her arms crossed and her foot pressed onto the wall as well.

"Hey, asshole." Arina waved. "You lookin' tired, wanna sleep again?" She tilted her head.

"Nah, also fuck you, you're the asshole." Jordon huffed, using a hand towel to wipe all his sweat.

"Whatever." The blonde shrugged. She noticed that Jordon was unzipping his jacket. "Hey, what're you doing?" She raised her voice being wary of the microphone.

"Taking off my jacket, duh. What kind of stupid question is that?" Jordon blurted out, regretting half of it. "It's fucking hot in here, I might as well get a heat stroke."

Arina shook her head. "Well, yeah, but, you shouldn't take your shit off, concert's not done yet." She reasoned out.

"I think I'd rather be a bit different than get sick from the cold sweat." Jordon threw his jacket beside the drum riser. "Can you put this behind my back?" He handed a second hand towel to Arina.

"What the fuck? No way." Arina shook her head. "Do I look like your fucking mom?"

Jordon did an exaggerated pouty face at Arina "Pwease?" He made his lips tremble.

"Eugh,  _fine._ " Arina rolled her eyes. "Give me the damn towel." She snatched the towelette from Jordon, forcefully turning him around and shoving the towel in his back. "Fuckin' baby."

"Oh, c'mon, you're just like George; you  _love_  spoiling people." Jordon snickered.

Arina shook her head, attempting to hide a smile. "Oh, fuck off."

Jorel turned around from the audience. "Hey, Charlie." He said into the mic. "Want Johnny 3 Tears to take off his suit? I know you'd like that you fuckin' fa-"

"Uhh, fuck no, that shit's reserved for me and me only." Jordon cut him off. "Right, Johnny?"

George chuckled, shaking his head. "Sorry, everybody. You heard the man, I'm exclusive."

The crowd booed and aww'd at the response but that only made the band laugh harder. "That's just how it is, folks." Aron shrugged.

"Aaaaand done." Arina patted Jordon's back. "Go get 'em, tiger." She cheered.

"Aww, thanks." Jordon placed his hands on his hips, smiling. "You're pretty great y'know?" He put on an ecstatic tone.

Arina rolled her eyes but couldn't contain her grin. "Oh, stop it you, you're making me blush." She flicked her wrist. "Now, c'mon. We gotta get back to to the goddamn show."

Jorel was busy speaking to the audience, making them laugh and being a cocky son of a bitch. "-and that'- Jor- I mean, Charlie, where the fuck is your jacket?" He looked at the man as if though he was a dead rat on the sidewalk.

"It was hot," Jordon shrugged. "maybe you should take off your fuckin' flannel, you smell like shit."

All of the guys looked weirdly at Jordon, but he gave very little shits about it because he's not wrong. "What happened to the ventilation in this area? Where did all the cool air go? I mean, you guys agree right?" He asked the fans. "Make some noise if you guys think it's fucking hot in here."

The crowd all yelled and cheered, agreeing to Jordon's statement. He looked back to the guys and shrugged. "See? It's hot in here."

Dylan let out a chuckle. "Well, if that's the case..." He put his mic on the mic stand and took off his black t-shirt. The Mexican took the mic again his put his mouth way too close to the microphone, practically kissing it. "Won't be needing that anymore."

Even more cheers came from the audience. " _This_  is the fanservice they deserve." Dylan chuckled.

"That's why it's called fanservice." Arina turned on her mic as well.

Although everyone was having a good time, Jordon could see the clear disdain in Jorel's face looking right at him. " _Jeez, tough crowd._ " Jordon thought to himself, shaking his head.

"Hit it!" Aron yelled out loud, which was the cue for the next track. As the next song started to play, the song itself was unfamiliar to Jordon but for some reason the tempo and beat of the song eerily reminded him of Coming In Hot. Actually, it's almost a certain rip-off of Coming in Hot, what the fuck's up with that?

Well, that honestly didn't matter to Jordon at the moment. He just wanted to get everything over with so that he would know what the fuck's up with everything and how he would go back. Yes, he's started to warm up to this hell of a world, but what's making him worried is what's going on in his world. What if the Jordon from this world is awake at Jordon's actual world? What if Jordon will never come back to his home? To his Daniel? What if he  _does_  go back but he has to have a fight to the death with other dimension Jordon? He's never killed a man before and he never wants to!

The anxiety from his thoughts is battling the anxiety of fucking up on stage, the double shots of adrenaline caused his body to initiate a fight or flight reaction. As a result of not wanting to pussy out in front of everyone, he decided to fight.

"C'mon everybody put'cha fuckin' hands up!" Jordon yelled, jumping up and down to the beat of the drums in the song. "I said put'cha hands up! C'mon!" He skipped across the stage, high-fiving everyone in the front rows.

"Wow, I thought  _I_  was the hype man." Jordon barely heard Dylan speak through the instrumentals.

"I thought so too." Aron agreed.

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time for the encore. The band leaves the stage, soon being met with cheers of "Undead!" being repeated over and over.

Jordon let out deep gasps of air, maybe doing literal cardio around the stage was a bad idea. "Jordy? You aight, buddy?" Aron massaged Jordon's back.

"Ah, yeah." Jordon coughed. "Never better."

Arina flipped her microphone with utmost badassery. "Hey, dickhead, they're waiting for you." She jerked her head towards the audience.

"Of course they are." Jordon cracked the bones in his neck.

" _Asshole._ " Jorel said under his breath. Jordon was able to hear it but shook it off. Was he hurt by it emotionally? You bet your ass. Will he ever show those feelings to anyone? Absolutely fucking not.

The man coughed one more time, and with complete passion, spoke into the mic.

" _Everywhere I go, bitches always know-_ "

" _That Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show!_ "

" _Everywhere I go, bitches always know-_ "

" _That Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show!_ "

The actual song started to play, along with the loudest the audience has ever been. Well, who wouldn't? The song is a classic.

It was actually a surreal experience performing that song in particular with Aron again. Actually, performing in general with Aron was trippy as fuck for Jordon. The only difference between back then and now is that Aron isn't sucking so much ass and being off-key. That part of the performance always irked Jordon. Why doesn't Deuce suck?

While Jordon was rapping the second verse, Jay pushed Jordon with his elbow from behind. This cause Jordon to nearly fuck up a word. He glanced at Jorel over his shoulder, to which he saw the Italian descendant's piercing glare focused right at him. Jordon shook it off and continued singing.

Of course, all good songs have to end. So this lead up to the finale, the finale which Jordon had no idea what it was. He wasn't able to catch a glance at the last several songs so he wasn't sure what he's dealing with. Though he could expect it to be a hopeful song like Hear Me Now or Young.

Aron started singing the opening lines to the last track, but what came out of his mouth filled Jordon.

" _We are the ones, we are the only ones, the only sun in your sky~!_ "


	12. A Haunting Chill

Jordon felt like he was going to vomit. Not the kind that was caused by alcohol, but the kind where you'd try to ask your crush out and you'd get butterflies in your stomach from all the irrational ways he or she or they would reject you, causing you to feel nauseous and throw up. Except this time, instead of asking your crush out, it was Jordon remembering the events between George and Aron, and instead of irrational thoughts of rejection, it was thoughts of overwhelmedness, and instead of throwing up, Jordon swallowed his puke, and quite frankly, also a bit of his pride.

"Why...?" Jordon said. Words couldn't describe the emotional turmoil that he was experiencing right in the middle of the stage. But it was something like a mix of disgust and confusion.

Arina noticed Jordon standing dead in the middle of the stage. "Jords!" She yelled, her hands acting as a megaphone.

Jordon shook his head. " _Huh?_ " He blinked fast.

"Shitbag!" Arina yelled once more. "Yer part's comin' up!"

After a split second, Jordon's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. He looked directly at the audience, all of them cheering and reaching out their arms to the band.

Despite all the bad memories being brought up, he did everything in his power to get his shit together. " _All of it's in the past; all of it is done. There's nothing you could do anymore._ "

A strange voice whispered in the back of Jordon's mind. " ** _In your past, but not here._** "

Jordon inhaled sharply and made a quick mental "fuck you" to himself for thinking that. " _All about self-care, Jordon._ " He thought to himself.

Instincts told Jordon that his part was coming up, another rush of anxiety and excitement. And with that, he took a deep breath, ready to perform with all his heart and soul in this encore.

A particular memory popped up in the back of Jordon's mind, one that will always and forever be ingrained in his brain because of that stupid fucking song.

So to pass the time for now, a flashback for you lovely people.

"Y'know, like, I'm jus' sayin', I feel like- y'know, I should get a bit more off the royalty since I made mos' of da songs... Y'know?" Aron cocked his head forward, grinning like an idiot.

"What?!" Matthew gritted his teeth. "Are you out of your mind?!"

George laughed it off, but the tense feeling of anger radiated off of him. "What're you talkin' about, brother?" Poison was spilling out of his smile.

Aron inhaled slowly, leaning backwards, his demeanor changed almost completely. "I make like, y'know, almost all'a da stuff we've put out, and I jus' think it's a lil' unfair if I only get  _this_  much." He put a small gap between his index finger and his thumb, squinting his eyes.

"We all had a part in everythin', dude." Jorel pointed out.

"Yea, but, I did  _everythin'_  for tha most part, y'know?" Aron shrugged.

Dylan slouched forward, a doink in hand. "So, if that's the case, you're sayin' I should get less money than y'all?" He furrowed his eyes.

"Well, I might as well  **give**  them money!" Matthew yelled.

"Hey, hey, guys." Jorel stood up from his plastic chair, slightly extending his arms. "I'm sure we can settle this out  _like adults_." He glared at Aron.

" _The fuck you lookin' at me for?_ " Aron thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

George bit his lips. "Hey, no need to raise your voices, guys." He extended his arm out in an attempt to calm the others down even though he himself is completely pissed off by the words of the skinny motherfucker.

While George was giving words of comfort, Dylan was giving Aron one of those piercing gazes that everyone else is really good at for some reason. To that, Aron fluttered his eyes. He felt a haunting chill down his spine, but he chose not to show it.

" _This motherfucker won't see the end of it, I'll make sure of that._ " Dylan's sober thoughts mumbled through his half-drunken mouth.

The door busted open, a young and more-than-tipsy Jordon Terrell ambled his way inside. "Hey, guys!" He slurred.

"Not a good time, bro." Dylan spoke in a hush tone.

Jordon took a few steps closer to the guys. "What's going on?" He tilted his head, pouting like a child.

"We're havin' a good ol' fashioned financial crisis." Matthew sneered. "Deucey here wants a bigger share off the royalty check." he stuck his thumb out and pointed it towards Aron.

"Oh," Jordon raised his eyebrows. "That's not good."

"'That's not good'?!" George echoed. "It's fucking awful!"

"Y'all realize I'm in the same room as y'all, right?" Aron spoke in hushed tone.

George jerked his head towards his nasally band member. "Yeah, I'm not done with you, fa-"

"Georgie, just stop." Jordon huffed. "Just sit down."

"Don't 'Georgie' me, Terrell." George hizzed.

Jordon widened his eyes ever so slightly. "Well, don't 'Terrell' me, Ragan" To that, Dylan placed his hand on Jordon's shoulder, shaking his head with his eyes closed. " _Oh._ " Jordon whispered.

Aron widened his eyes. "Oh, okay. We last namin' now."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Aron, please shut up." He asked nicely. "We're all fighting because of you anyway."

" _I'm right though, y'know?_ " Aron mouthed out.

"I heard that." Matthew furrowed his eyebrows. "And hey, I know the only reason you want more money is because you want to buy weed and fuck a buncha hookers with all that cash." He winked, smirking.

Aron slouched forward, an insulted look plastered onto his face. "What the  _fuck_  did ya say?"

"I'm right though, y'know?" The older man mocked.

"Ya don't have da right tah say what I do with the money I make." Aron barked.

The other man could only laugh in a mocking tone. "Oh, c'mon, you're lyin' to me and you're lyin' to yourself."

"You shut the fuck up right now." Aron finally stood up, puffing his chest to buff up his skinny, hopeless frame.

Matthew laughed some more, nodding his head up and down. "Oh, are you trying to be threatening?" He asked. "That was a rhetorical question. Nice try, cupcake."

"The fuck did you call me, homie?" Aron yelled, taking a step forward.

"Why do you always put up this fake 'gangsta' act?" Matthew grinned, placing his head on his fist. "That's not even how you actually sound before you decided to put up this fake ass ghetto act." He gestured his hands to Aron's entire body.

Aron's abnormally large nose wrinkled up, a definite indication that he has been pissed off, which seems a bit unnatural since most of the time he's too high to notice his surroundings.

"So you're callin' me  **fake**?" Aron's voice became louder with every syllable.

"I didn't say  _you're_  fake, I just said that what you're doing is fake. There's a difference." Matthew tried to reason out.

"Fuck you, you fuckin fa-"

"So," Jordon whispered to Dylan, sitting down next to him. "is this the part where we argue too? 'Cause it seems like everyone's talkin' about something."

"Umm," Dylan pouted. "you still owe me five bucks." He murmured.

Jordon jerked his head back. "You still remember that? That was like, three months ago man."

"Yeah," Dylan nodded. "exactly."

"Goddammit." Jordon cursed.

"None of y'all would be here if it weren't for me!" Aron yelled, completely unhinged. "I started this fuckin' band!"

Jorel stomped his foot to the ground, leaning towards the twink menacingly. "What do you mean  _you_  started the band?! You, me, and Jeff started the band!"

Aron grabbed the collar of Jorel's flannel, causing the younger man to trip over a bit. "You don't mention that fake ass motherfucka around me, aight?"

Matthew stepped in, pulling Jorel to the side. "The reason why you think you're doing everything is because you keep bossin' us around!" He grabbed the neckline of Aron's muscle shirt with only one hand, quite similar to the way Aron took Jorel's collar, only more professionally. "And then you'll whine like a lil' bitch if you don't have it your way, right?!"

"Eat shit, dickbag!" Aron tried to throw a punch, but Matt easily stopped his fist with one hand.

Matthew slowly turned his head to the measly fist that nearly hit his face. "Did you just try to punch me?" His eyes grew to the size of the moon.

If this were a movie, the scene would slow down, focusing of Matt's fist with his angered face slightly blurred behind. Optionally, classical music, maybe a lady singing Italian opera, would be playing in the background. Some clips of everyone's reactions slowed-down, mainly a mix between anger and shock. And where the final part would be Aron's final look of regret before a punch sound effect and the screen going black.

Sadly, this is not a movie. But the scene written above is somewhat accurate. Well, only the part where everything wasn't slow-mo and dramatic. But other than that, completely spot on. Another thing that was also different was that Matthew didn't even land a single cell of skin on Aron.

A squeal of utter horror came out of the twink's mouth, his arms sheepishly raised up to defend himself in anyway from the knuckles of Matthew, only to realize that Matty stopped centimeters (or an inch if you're American) away from Aron's face.

"If I hit you for real, what sound would you have made instead?" Matthew joked, the other members snickered along with the older man. Aron let out a single tear of both shame and fear.

"That wasn't fuckin' funny!" Aron pulled Matthew's arm away from his shirt, tumbling just enough to land ass-first on the floor.

"Well," Matthew squated, placing his hands on his knees. "If you weren't so fuckin' hammered at the moment, you would've actually hit me." He smiled maniacally. "And we can't have that now, can we?"

"Motherfucker..." Aron flipped off the man who almost punched him.

Meanwhile, Jordon looked to the side at his best friend, Dylan. The Mexican looked a bit more irritated than usual. "Are you okay, dude?"

Smoke came out of Dylan's nose both in a literal and metaphorical way. " **What do you think?** " He enunciated every word in a very bold manner. Jordon was taken aback, his heart skipped a beat. Out of everyone, nobody is more fearsome than Funny Man. Quite ironic, actually.

Jorel looked down on his friend's teary-eyed face, it was pretty similar to that one time a girl beat him up while they were in Moscow because Deuce was catcalling or something. The only difference is that not a single finger was laid on Aron. Jorel could swear that he  _heard_  Aron's blood boiling because of what happened.

" _So much for bein' a gangsta, I guess._ "

"Thank you, Oregon! Goodnight!" Aron yelled into the mic and throwing his hands up in the air.

George cupped his mic to his face. "We'll see you next time!"

The band all rested backstage, they still heard the chants of fans from the other side. Dylan took a water bottle and let all the liquid flow out to his face.

"What a waste of good water." Arina shook her head. "Look, mos' of it's on da floor!" She pointed out. Dylan just shrugged it off.

At the distance, Jordon was staring into the nothingness. He was hunched over, his shoulders resting on his knees. While everyone was groaning and moving around to fix everything up, he sat completely still, letting time pass by slower than it should. Jordon wasn't sure why that particular memory popped up out of nowhere

George clasped his hands together, echoing around the room. "Alright, everybody! Back to the buses!"

"Wow." Arina raised her eyebrows in sarcastic amazement. "Such a leader, commandin' with a loud voice and an iron fist."

The man flushed a tiny bit. "Oh, please." He rolled his eyes, trying to contain a smile. He noticed Terrell sitting down on a metal folding chair, looking into the distance. " _The fuck he lookin' at?_ " George squinted his eyes at the younger man.

Suddenly, a revelation came to George. The reason why Jordon was having an off day today was because he and Jay were fighting this morning! Of course! But wait, that doesn't explain why he passed out a few times afterwards, of why his mannerisms changed completely. But one thing is clear for sure...

Ragan knows the perfect way to cheer Jordon up.


	13. A Winky Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the usage of cocaine, although the effects are not specified. Please read with caution.

"Jordon!" George cheered, startling the younger man. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I scare you?" He tilted his head, flashing an innocent smile.

"What the fuck, man." Jordon tiredly laughed, lightly shoving the older man away, as a joke of course. "What do you want?" He imitated George's head tilt.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked." George clasped his hands together. "It's nothin' too serious, don't worry." He took out his phone to text something.

Jordon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, so much so that you could place a penny in between the folds of his skin and it would stay in place. "What're you talkin' abou-"

Suddenly, Jordon received a text message, or a Twitter DM to be more precise. And from George no less!

" _Meet me at the bus lounge in five minutes exact ;))_ "

Terrell's eyebrows raised as high as they possibly could, he looked up to stare George in the eyes but when he did, there was no sign of him at all.

" _What the actual fuck?!_ " Jordon scream-whispered, his extreme over-analysis mode has been activated. " _A winky face with a double chin? That only means-_ " He shook his head at the thought. " _No, no way, I_ ** _refuse_** _to think that it could go_ ** _that_** _way. No way. Nope._ " He then decided to do the smart move and backread previous DM's they sent to one another, but alas, there was none to be found.

Also, what does "five minutes exact" even mean? After five minutes is Jordon supposed to get moving or is he supposed to be in the lounge at the moment five minutes have passed when the message was sent? Speaking of lounge, what  _exactly_  are they going to do in there? Jordon wants to think of all the possible scenarios but frankly, all of them lead to sex.

Jordon was hyperventilating once more, his head felt like it was spinning. So in this universe  _George_  is his boyfriend? Well, at least Jordon is still pretty gay in this universe. But wait, didn't Arina say George doesn't have a boyfriend or girlfriend? If that's the case, why did George send a winky face with a double chin? What on earth could that possibly even mean?!

"Hey." Arina called. "Earth to Jords. Are you there?" She kicked Jordon's foot.

"Ah," Jordon peeped. "hey, if someone said you should be at some place at an exact amount of time, what do you do?" He asked.

Arina looked up to the ceiling wistfully, biting her lips in concentration. "I'd be there a few minutes late." She looked back down to the confused man.

Terrell shook his head. "Why would you be late if someone said you should be on time?" He asked, bewildered to the goth's answer.

"Because bein' fashionably late is the best kinda late." Arina winked, patting Jordon's shoulder and calling out to the other guys.

"Well, that was  _extremely_  helpful." Jordon ironically stated out loud. He shook his head and got up, making his way out.

Dylan noticed his friend making his way to the exit. He ambled to the doorway, blocking the shorter man. He leaned back against the door. "Where ya goin', bro?" Dyl's timid eyes looked down on Jordon as he slowly put his hand down on Jord's shoulder.

" _This is too much shoulder touching for one day._ " Jordon thought. "I'm goin' out, why?" He gulped, biting the inside of his cheek. Why does his friend look so menacing all of a sudden?  _Again?!_

"I'm jus' askin', wouldn't want to lose ya in the streets again." The Mexican laughed. "But, this is about Georgie, ain't it?" He beamed his eyes at the older man.

Jordon let out a nervous chuckle. "Aha, what?" His voice cracked. "I dunno what you're talking about, man. Quit joking around."

Dylan let out a slightly defeated sigh, his posture immediately looking more vulnerable and open. "This is usually the part where you'd tell me to 'mind my fuckin' bussiness'." He made a quoting gesture with his hands. "Somethin' really  _is_  wrong with ya, dawg." He wrinkled his eyebrows down, nodding.

"Maybe there is," Jordon breathed out slowly. "and how do you know it's about George?" He crossed his arms.

"Uhh," Dylan laughed, looking at the distance momentarily. "how would I  _not_  know?" He chuckled some more. "After ev'ry show, y'all be fuckin' like rabbits!" He chuckled.

And with that, Jordon's face turned completely pale, as if he couldn't get any paler to begin with. "Ah, I see." He nodded. "Well, I better get goin' then." He tried his best to keep his composure. "Wouldn't want to miss out on... that." Jordon raised his eyebrows.

Before Dylan could even react, Jordon already pushed him aside and rushed out to the door. Dylan scratched the back of his head in frustration, his two-toned hair bouncing up and down. A disappointed and frustrated expression slapped on his face.

It took awhile for Jordon to figure out where the tour bus was, mostly because he doesn't remember where it was. Jordon kicked a can that was in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh, well. It's a good way to pass the exact five minutes.

" _What do I tell George? I don't want to fuck him or anything, I'm in love with Danny, not him._ " Jordon paced the lazy sidewalks of Oregon. " _Dear lord, what if he's gonna beat the shit outta me if I say no? What if he [sexually assaults] me? Oh god, I don't want that._ " He shook his head. " _Well, I don't think George is that bad of a guy, right? He_ ** _does_** _kinda spoil me for a reason, I guess._ "

After some time walking around aimlessly, Jordon finally found the bus parked in an extremely undisclosed parking spot, literally the only place with an unlit street lamp. How terrific.

Once Jordon stepped inside the bus, he forgot entirely about the awful stench that radiated off the insides of the bus. The moment the automatic doors opened, a foul reek of whatever the fuck entered Jordon's poor nostrils. " _Dear lord..._ " He whimpered.

" _I gotta buy an air freshener or something when I have the time._ " Jordon made a quick mental note, holding his breath. Now, time to go to the back lounge and... yeah.

Jordon was right in front of the door, but he didn't raise his hand or anything; he just stood at the other side of the door. God knows what George is doing in there, but knowing the information Dylan gave him, Terrell was absolutely terrified.

"Goddammit." Jordon sighed, shaking his head as finally opened the door. He was welcomed with a somewhat inviting George Ragan sitting suggestively on the beaten-up couch.

"Hello, Terrell~" The older man seductively winked, his legs wide open. He stood up, meandering towards Jordon.

Tension struck between the two's atmosphere, but they were two entirely different kinds of tension, one was sexual while another was nervous. It's quite obvious to tell which one the other was feeling, but I won't bother with the details.

Once the two's faces were inches apart, George leaned in, his mouth so close up Jordon's ear. "Hey, babe." He whispered. "You've been lookin' stressed all day, do you want daddy to make you feel better~?"

" _I have a daddy kink now? So fuckin' wack._ " Jordon closed his eyes, fluttering ever so slightly in disgust. He put his hand on George's bicep, opposite of where the taller man's head was leaning towards.

"Whaddya say, sweetheart?" George kissed Jordon's cheek. "Care to unwind just a lil' bit? Get your mind off some things?"

Jordon slowly pushed George away. "I don't think now is a good time, George." He sighed. "I'm not really in the mood." The younger man's heart suddenly started pounding faster. " _Well, fuck. This is how I die._ "

"What do you mean, Jordy?" George asked, his eyes gleaming. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

" _Yep, this is how I fucking die._ " Jordon swallowed his saliva. "I'm just sorta... tired, y'know?" He tried his best to keep his composure but Jordon was practically sweating bullets. " _Yeah, I'm gonna die. It was nice knowing everyone._ "

Even though the light source was scattered evenly in the room, Jordon could swear by his life that shadows were casted on George's face once more. Either that, or, Jordon is hallucinating from the loose cocaine he was probably inhaling all over the room. Despite the taller man's gentle hold and composure, the aura he was radiating was utterly terrifying.

"Ah, I see." George nodded, letting go of his hold. "Well, you better go rest then." He smiled.

"Um, thanks." Jordon nodded back. " _I'm not dead?!_ "

The older man placed his hand on Jordon's shoulder. "But if there's anything you need from me, don't be afraid to tell me."

" _Again with the shoulder thing, what's up with that?_ " Jordon thanks. "Of course I will, man-"

George then pulled Jordon back towards him, passionately but also messily kissing the shorter man. Jordon didn't give enough fucks to fight it, but not enough feelings to put any effort in it. " _Danny is_ ** _definitely_** _a better kisser._ " Jordon thought. " _No offence, Georgie._ "

Jordon decided to end the half-assed french kiss and took a step back. "That's enough of that." He shone a smile of slight pity. "I'll see you in the morning, Georgie." He returned a hand to the shoulder on George and walked away.

"Yeah, goodnight." George waved goodbye to Jordon, to which Jordon didn't return the favor as he already closed the door.

"Goddammit, Ragan." George cussed himself, kicking the dirt and debris on the floor. "You fuckin' blew it, you fa-"

Heavy footsteps were coming from the front of the bus, it must be the rest of the band. George couldn't handle the embarrassment of the shit he just pulled off moments ago. So the tall man took out his wallet, to which he took out his credit card and a dollar bill, and you can probably figure out the rest yourselves.

"Eugh..." Jordon massaged the bridge of his nose, today was one shitty day for him. How long was he going to stay here? Is this his new home? What's going on back in his home-

"Nope! Not this time, thoughts in the back of my head!" Jordon moved his index finger back and forth, as if he was scolding a child. "You are  _not_  going to let those bad thoughts get the better of you, Jordon." He pointed his index finger at himself. After that, he sighed in defeat, crawling back to his bunk. " _This whole self-care thing is hard, how the fuck do people do it?_ " He asked himself, letting all the bad thoughts he tried to stop consume his mind.

A reasonable amount of time has passed, Jordon has reality blocked out through the use of Airpods that he found under his mattress, letting whatever song he had on his Spotify playlists playing. The guys have all settled out at the back lounge, Arina possibly in the front since her edgy, obnoxious voice is absent from the mess. Several girls, possibly groupies were giggling with the band.

Jordon sensed light taps going near to his bunk. "Jordon." Aron opened the tattered curtains of Jordon's bunk. "Dude."

"What?" Jordon clenched his jaw, all he wanted to do was rest but he can't seem to catch a break, this must be the  _true_  rockstar life people must be talking about, nobody told him about jumping into a parallel universe for no damn reason.

"I got ya some Tylenol," Aron gently tossed the bottle of pills on Jordon's bed. "I found for it in your bag."

"No thanks." Jordon declined. "Maybe if you have something that'll knock you out I could use those instead." As soon as Jordon said that, Aron immediately ran straight to the front. "Aron?" Jordon peeked his head outside the bunk. "Fuck's sake." He bit his lips, dropping his head back in his bunk. "I just wanna go home, please, God." Jordon prayed. " _Whoever the fuck is up there, please listen to me._ "

"I dunno why you'd need sleepin' pills at this hour," Jordon heard Aron talking. "the sun ain't even fully down yet." The twink kneeled down to Jordon's bunk's level. "Here, these're almost empty but one should give you a good night's rest." Aron gave Jordon a bottle of Zzzquil. "They work for me, I dunno if they'll do the same for ya." He shrugged.

Jordon pursed his lips. "Eh, good enough." He opened the bottle, swallowing the remaining three pills that remained inside without a second thought and drank a bottle of Heineken that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. Jordon didn't know what he was thinking, but at this point, thinking would only make things worse.

"Yo, what?!" Aron scream-whispered. "Jordon, spit 'em out!" He smacked the back of Jordon's head. "The fuck you doin', man?!" He repeatedly slammed the Jordon's back.

"Ow, ow, hey! Stop it!" Jordon forcefully brushed the arms of the skinny man down. "What's your problem, man?"

"You might overdose or somethin'!" Aron worriedly shouted.

Jordon gave a crooked yet sly grin. " _Good._ "

"Ya really scarin' me, Jordy." Aron's voice trembled, his breathing turned shaky. "I dunno what's goin' on with ya, but- but please stop." He stuttered. 

"Why should I?" Jordon sneered. "I'm gonna be dead soon anyway." He said more reassuringly than he should've.

A drunken Jorel slammed the door open holding a rather drunken harlot by the waist. "Tha fuck's goin' on?" He sneered, pushing the dame by the face back inside the lounge. Both Jordon and Aron stared at the drunken mess that was against the light.

"Oh, nothin' really." Aron fiddled with his freakishly long and bony fingers. "Jordy here just wanted some sleepin' pills from me."

" _I didn't even know you had sleeping pills or anything like that._ " Jordon squinted his eyes.

Jorel took large strides over to Aron, kneeling down on one knee and used his middle finger and thumb to squeeze both of the skinnier man's cheeks. "Don't lie to me, bitch." He slurred. "What the  _fuck_  were ya doin' 'ere?" His nose twitched.

"I ain't lyin', I swea- swear!" Aron struggled to get the words out, trying to pull down Jorel's arm down. "Please, stop!"

"I'm I not good enough for ya?" Jorel's eyebrows furrowed immensely. "Am I?!" He squeezed Aron's cheeks even harder. "Answer me, Aron!"

Jordon could swear that there's a switch in the back of his mind that turns on whenever someone is being an asshole, a switch that turns on his Asshole Mode. Jordon lightly tapped the empty bottle of Zzzquil on Jorel's temple. "Hey, asshole, I'm tryna sleep here." He wrinkled his nose up. "Can't you be a shitbag somewhere else?" Jordon smirked.

Fumes were practically coming out of Jorel's ears and nose despite not inhaling any smoke beforehand. "Can't you be obnoxious and loud somewhere else?" He barked.

"No, not really." Jordon did a draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls pose, smirking as if he won a battle of sorts. "Why do you think it's okay to have a buncha hookers by your side when your own boyfriend can't have a nice lil' chit-chit with a friend?"

"I ain't jealous of ya, Terrrrrell." Jorel put his index finger on Jordon's chest.

"Huh, funny you should say that..." Jordon tilted his head. "I never said anything about you bein'  _jealous_. Unless..." Jordon smiled from ear-to ear.

"Fuck this!" Jorel threw his hands to the side and stood up. "I'm outta here!" He stormed out.

"Hah!" Jordon squawked. "Dumb bitch!"

Aron sat in bewilderment at how quickly Jordon was able to piss Jorel off like that when moments ago he was as depressed as a snail or a demon stuck inside a salt circle. "Wow." He blurted out.

"Yeah," Jordon agreed to Aron's loss for words. "I don't think you can get high off of..." He looked at the label of the Zzzquil bottle "Antihistamine, but I don't even think I'm high off drugs; I'm high off of victory!" He beamed.

"How'd ya do that?" Aron sniffed.

"Hmm?" Jordon adjusted his lying positions "What'chu mean?"

"Just, y'know," Aron gestured his hands around. " _that_. Just you, but most especially, how ya can be, no offense, a total dumbass at times and then prove people wrong like, y'know, a lawyer or some shit, y'know?"

Jordon let out a small chuckle. "Non taken, I get that a lot." He rolled his eyes in a non-offensive manner. "But, uhh, I dunno. It's sort of like uh, a natural instinct, I guess." Jordon shrugged.

"Well, you're really good at it." Aron complimented.

"Aww, you're too nice~" Jordon put one hand on his cheek and motioned his free hand downwards, pretending to be flattered. Even though he is really and genuinely flattered.

"Well, I've had enough for today, might as well sleep early." Aron crawled down to his bunk, which conveniently was right below Jordon's. "I mean, I would if I had any sleepin' pills left I guess."

The younger man puckered his lips, shaking the bottle of pills, he heard a single capsule from within the component. "Hmm, I think a pill was stuck to the bottom of the bottle, I heard it drop from the inside when I hit Jay's head with it." He stuck his arm out of his bunk, bottle in hand. "Here ya go."

Aron also stuck his hand out of his bunk with relative ease, mainly because half of his curtain is completely ripped out and missing. "Thanks, brah."

"Aron," Jordon called. "why do you let Jay do that kinda shit to you?" Jordon put his hands behind his head, ensuing relaxation before the Melatonin kicks in.

The smaller man stayed silent for a moment, but only for a moment. "Honestly? I dunno anymore, I'm jus' sorta, y'know, scared, I guess." Aron lied down on his side.

"Well, you should stop bein' scared and man the fuck up." Jordon advised. "Tell 'em who's boss, boss!" He cheered.

Aron chuckled. "Ya flatterin' me, buddy."

"It's true though," Jordon fluttered his eyes. "you gotta stand your ground if it gets too much." He crossed his legs.

"Maybe." Aron put the hand he was lying down on and cupped his cheek. "Y'know, I don't say this enough, but you're a pretty great friend, Jord."

"You too." Jordon nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> georgie got rejected lmaooo poor guy


	14. A Second Time

The three band mates were busy causing chaos in the back lounge. Jorel making out with a random chick and a lady sitting on Dylan's lap. Meanwhile, George was staring blankly at the ceiling, his hand cupping his face.

George was wondering what his life has come to; hookers, weed, music, and cocaine. That was all he ever did. His childhood was a simpler time, he didn't have to worry about things like money or taxes, he didn't have to worry about his health and could eat whatever the fuck he wanted without having to worry about the effects afterwards, he didn't have to be wary of other people's feelings and he could be rude whenever he wanted to.

Why couldn't George get everything he wanted? Sure, he had everything a rockstar could ask for. But why is he still not happy? What is he doing wrong? Why is he still so unsatisfied with his life?

"Hey," Jorel repeatedly poked the older man's forehead. "George." He tapped some more.

The older man let out a groan, unable to respond properly. The post-cocaine depression starting to kick in his system.

"Earth to bastard," Jorel called out. "are ya listenin'?" He spoke louder.

"What?" George slurred, jerking his head towards the Italian descendant, attempting to focus on his words. "Wha's it?"

"Nothin'." Jorel looked back over to the woman who was dry humping his leg. "Jus' checkin' if your still alive." He said.

"Whatev'r." George's lips twitched, his heart pounding faster. Both from the drugs and because his sad, pitiful heart craves for love and affection.

A voice at the back of George's mind thought out loud. " _Why has your life come to this?_ "

Of course, the artist's regretful mind. The one thing that kills creativity, the doubt that comes to the creator's mind. George's time was coming to a close end, he thought. " _Lord, take me now._ "

Meanwhile, Arina had her mind and arms wrapped around Mikey. "Who's a cute lil' baby?" She babbled. "Mikey's a cute lil' baby!" She cheered.

The tiny hog made a small snorting sound.

Arina giggled in amazement. She's always been a pet person, having grown up in a neighborhood full of stray animals. She was always baffled as to why Aron was absolutely terrible at taking care of any kind of living creature. One time, Aron overwatered a cactus and it somehow split in half at the middle. Arina always saw herself as incapable of handling a child, well, obviously she babysat but that was the easiest way to get money other than lemonade stands and girl scout cookies but she saw them as a scam as a kid.

Somewhere at the back of Arina's mind, she always saw an image of her and a man with a young child, living in a small suburban neighborhood in a white picket fence-style house, writing a children's book with a cup of coffee on her work desk. Maybe with a dog or two, preferably huskies or golden retrievers. She shook her head. There was no way she was ever going to settle down, why on earth would she think that way?

"God, that's just stupid." She said to herself. "What do you think, Mike?" She asked the hog. "What should I do with my life?"

Mike let out two tiny oinks.

"Yeah, I dunno either." She pouted. "This rockstar life is amazing, but what's in it in the long haul?" Arina rocked the small mammal back and forth. She stared at the empty couch at the other side of the bus, Arina always wondered why the guys never used this part of the bus, aside from preventing the bus driver high. She was pretty sure there was a reason why she's the only one here, she just couldn't remember.

Another thing Arina wondered was Jordon. What's gotten into him lately? Something wrong with his coke? This morning, there was something  _very_  wrong with Jordy Terrell.

It honestly reminded her of what happened to Dylan a couple years prior. No one knows what happened but one day, Dyl was extremely pissed off at the guys for whatever reason. He slept early for the day, and when he woke up, he turned into this completely different person. The guys favored this new, changed Funny Man. Well, everyone except  _Jorel_. The guy hates change of any kind. What a shitbag.

The goth pursed her lips, trying to connect the dots. It was quite strange indeed.

"I gotta ask Dilly about this." Arina bit the inside of her cheeks.

Speaking of Dylan, he was looking bored. A girl riding his crotch while he was deep in thought. "Hmm." He sighed, he wasn't really in the mood at the moment. All he could think about are his friends and when it's a good time to order some McDonald's.

Dylan considers himself a multitasker but he can't stand Jorel's loud, intolerable moaning and groaning next to him. "Do you like this?" The Italian descendant asked the dame, she was too giggly and high to reply properly, which only made the man chuckle and grip on the girl's waists harder. Dylan rolled his eyes, there was no way this guy was for real, he has a boyfriend for fucks sake. He has no right to do something like that.

The half Mexican has his own fair share of regrets. There were times he would pull poor Aron's hair for no reason, or spit in the shoes of his fellow band members, especially Matty. He cringes at the times he said some shady stuff on Instagram and Twitter, to this day he still hasn't made a public apology and instead deleted all the contents of his accounts without an explanation.

"Something troublin' you, Funny honey~?" The dame on Dylan's lap questioned, she kissed the side of his neck.

"Nah, nah, keep goin'." Dylan dismissively said. To Dylan, sex while being high is the best way to concentrate, since the body is focused on pleasure, the high mind is left to do all the thinking. Sex in the shower while being high on the other hand, now you'll start thinking you're a god of sorts, but that's too much power for a mortal being to comprehend.

"C'mon, baby." Jorel cooed, Dylan cocked his head to the left, getting a side profile of Jorel. He remembered the days where he and Jorel were extremely close, it was only after  _the events of '1_ 3 when the two started to fall out. Nobody talks about  _the events of '13_ , mainly because nobody really knows what the fuck happened, and because Dylan thought of that name, and also because literally no one cares enough to talk about it.

Dylan then looked to the other side; at George, who seemed to be too deep in thought at the moment. " _Damn, he looks fucked up._ " Dylan thought. " _Wonder what happened between him and Jordy._ " He saw George's lips twitching slightly, the lifelessness in his eyes present. " _See, this is why coke fucks you up big time._ " He always felt bad for his snow-snorting friends, mainly because coke doesn't give you the same good time as weed. He tried it once, sure, but it was an awful experience in his opinion.

Speaking of snow snorting friends, Jordon hasn't been feeling himself lately ever since that little fight he had with Jorel this morning _._ It honestly reminded Dylan of the time he had an awful fight with the guys several years ago, it may be in the past, but it always comes back to haunt him at some point.

Which now brings us to  _the events of '13_. Enjoy.

"Ever heard of shuttin' the fuck up, Aron?" Dylan leaned against the armrest of the couch.

Aron fidgeted with his fingers. "I'm just sayin' you gotta cut down the drinks a little!" He squeaked. "We can't have you throwin' up all over the stage again like that!"

Dylan pointed a finger at the skinny man. "No one gave  _you_  tha right to say anythin' about how much I be drinkin', aight?"

The two were left all alone in the front lounge, the rest of the band were busy with their usual informal meet 'n greets after the show. But Dylan was far too hammered to say anything coherent, so Aron took one for the team and escorted him back to the tour bus.

"Dylan, you almost hit one of out fans!" Aron reasoned out. "Ya don't do that kinda stuff, y'know?" He crossed his arms in fear.

"But I didn't hit 'em, did I?" Dylan made a counter-argument.

"Yeah, 'cause I stopped you!" Aron yelled.

The drunken man tried to stand up threateningly, almost falling down as he did so. "Are ya yellin' at me?" He growled.

Aron's heart skipped a beat or two. "Wha- what? No, I meant, y'know-"

Dylan pressed his gloved fingers on Aron's mouth, the smaller man was struck with absolute fear. "Nobody fucken yells at Funny Man, aight?" The half Mexican's eyebrows furrowed. Aron was struggling to breath, Dylan taking up most of his air.

The door of the bus opened, a wild Jordon appeared. He casually took a few steps to the front lounge but heard the two bickering about something. "Hmm?" He leaned close enough to catch what they were talking about. He fiddled with his Louis Vuitton earring, his free arm hugging his body.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Aron whimpered. "I was just really worried about you, y'know?" His breath became shaky. Dylan kept on inching closer and closer as Aron kept taking steps backwards until his legs felt the couch. Aron gripped the hem of his shirt as if he was gripping on to his life.

" _Holy shit._ " Jordon whispered, leaning in closer to the room's blind spot. " _What the fuck is goin' on?_ "

"Dylan, plea- please stop." Aron gulped. "You're drunk." His lips quivered in fear.

"Oh, I'm fuckin' wasted, babes." Dylan's alcohol-stenched breath whispered.

Aron tried his absolute best to side step out of the taller man's way, but Dylan immediately grabbed on to Aron's hip. "Where you goin', bitch?" He gritted his teeth.

"Away from you, sicko!" Aron barked, brushing down Dylan's arm and making a break for the exit. The half Mexican sluggishly pulled onto Aron's hair. Sadly for Aron, he's not a very fast runner. "Dylan, stop!" He slapped Dylan's wrist.

"I ain't done talkin' with you, you fuckin' fa-"

_Thud._

"Uh oh." Jordon said out loud after he fell down from leaning too much. He struggled to get back up again. "So, uhh, how's it goin', guys?" He tilted his head with eyebrows furrowed, trying his best to play dumb, unfortunately for Jordon, he's very bad at playing that game. "I just went to get something." He blatantly lied.

Dylan squinted his eyes. "Jordy." He held a sweet tone in his voice but his expression spoke otherwise. Jordon was getting mixed signals to whether or not the Mexican knew he was eavesdropping.

"Hey, Dilly." Jordon smiled, trying not to panic at the sight he's seeing. His eyes darted at the fear-struck Erlichman whose eyes spoke " _help me_ " ever so hastily.

Jordon bit his lips, unsure of what to do. "Hey, Dyl, What're you doin' with Aron over there?" He asked.

Dylan looked back at Aron, who was breathing heavily. "Oh, nothin'. I was jus' teachin' him a lesson." He scrunched up his nose.

"Well, ya gotta be more careful with the guy," Jordon got up from where he fell. "wouldn't want good ol' Jay-jay bein' jealous of you or anythin', y'know?" He smirked ever so slightly.

"Whaddya mean by that?" Dylan let go of his grasp on Aron's hip, giving the twink a chance to escape, but instead he froze where he stood.

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that Jorel wouldn't be too happy if he found out you've been harassing his man." Jordon pointed out.

"I wasn't harassin' nobody." Dylan drunkenly ambled his way towards the shorter man. "Stop talkin' shit." He gritted his teeth.

"I'm just sayin' the truth, brother." Jordon put his hands up, closing his eyes like a snarky anime character. "Tsk, would be a shame, Dilly. Y'all're good friends, this lil' scandal could blow things outta proportions." He opened a single eye.

Dylan took the collar of Jordon's black jacket. "Are ya gonna fuckin' snitch on me, bro?" He huffed.

Jordon raised his eyebrows, puckering his lips. "No, I never said that." He shook his head.

"You better be sure of that." Dylan's eyes gleamed. "And I'll make sure you'll never say a word."

"Hmm?" Jordon raised an eyebrow, unaware of what Dylan meant. It was only then Jordon realized what "Dylan meant" when, in a split second, he saw the tattooed fist of the younger man zoom its way to Jordon's face.

_Bam!_

The extreme blow to the face Jordon withstood was enough to tumble him down to the floor. "Augh, fuck!" The older man shouted, his fingertips touching the soon-to-be bruised face of his. "Yo, what the fuck, dude?" Jordon hissed. "God, what the fuck?" He repeated, groaning in agony.

Aron stood in horror, his eyes widening at the fallen man, which quickly flashed towards the other. Dylan, realizing that there was a witness in the room, turned around and pulled the shirt of the skinny man, causing Aron to stumble forward.

"Not a word." Dylan spoke through his teeth.

Time has passed, Jordon was on the couch holding a cold beer bottle against his face, Dylan was getting absolutely hammered in the back lounge, and Aron tried his best to take a nap in his bunk.

"-so that's why those social justice vegans are fuckin' stupid!" Jorel's voice could be heard from the outside.

"Just admit you're really bad at cooking, Jay." Matthew said.

"Nah." The bus' door opened, the three were greeted by Jordon, who had a bottle of beer on his cheek. He tipped his snapback at the other band members.

"Yo, what happened?" Jorel asked, looking somewhat worried.

"Dylan fuckin' hit me." Jordon pouted.

"Really?" Matty snorted. "Damn, that must suck." He tried to contain his laughter.

"It's not fuckin' funny." Jordon growled. "That's how he got his fuckin' name, by  _not_  being funny." He gestured his free hand.

George took a few steps forward. "How bad is it?"

Jordon removed the bottle from his face, revealing a pinkish-purple bruise on Jordon's cheekbone.

"Crap, that don't look so good." Jorel took a sip from his Heineken bottle.

"I'm jus' surprised my bones aren't broken." Jordon put the beer bottle back on his face. "And this bottle ain't cold no more." He drank the remaining beer inside his impromptu ice pack. "God, what a huge dick." Jordon grunted.

"You do realize that Dylan to you is just you to us, right?" Matthew pointed out, taking off his shades.

"Well, yeah!" Jordon scrunched up his button nose. "But only I'm allowed to be tha asshole here."

"Literally no one has the right to be an asshole, Jordy." Matthew squinted his eyes.

"Easy for you you to say." Jordon whined.

"It actually is." Matthew nodded.

Jorel decided to stop the two from bickering so much by raising a new topic. "Hey, where's Aron?"

"He's in his bunk." Jordon pointed toward the bunk area of the bus. "I think he's sleepin'."

"Well, where's Dyl?" George asked.

"Back lounge," Jordon stretched his legs. "prolly gettin' high off his ass or somethin'." He lied down on the couch.

"We should go talk to the Funny Man." Matthew suggested.

"Oh, why? So he'll punch us in the face too?" Jorel raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you care about being punched in the face? Afraid your boyfriend will leave you if you're too ugly?" George snickered.

"I'm already ugly!" Jorel furrowed his perfect eyebrows. "And Aron is  _not_  my boyfriend, okay?"

"He didn't say anything about your boyfriend being Aron." Jordon pointed out, his eyes closed.

"Isn't your face supposed to be hurting?" Jorel hissed. "Do you need to be punched a second time?"

George pulled Jorel by the hoodie. "C'mon, we've got no time to lose." Matthew followed the two.

Jordon sighed, he hated how this was all turning out, but no use sulking about it now.

And you would expect what would've happened after that, the three, well, just George and Matthew had a pointless argument with Dylan, Jorel had no helpful input at all. Dylan, being the angry drunkard he is, stormed out of the room all the way to the front lounge and punched Jordon a second time, waking the older man up and causing his nose to bleed. All while Aron was carefully eavesdropping.

"Fucks sake!" Jordon shot up, blood dripping down to his shirt. "Goddammit!" He growled.

"Huh, would you look at that." Jorel said. "He got punched a second time."

"Dylan!" George shouted. "What the fuck, man!" His low, gravely voice echoed in the room.

"Yeah, what the fuck!" Jordon repeated. "I was mindin' my own business!"

"It's your fucken fault why all'a this happened." Dylan gritted his teeth.

"My fault?" Jordon stood up. " _My fault?!_ " He repeated. "It's your fuckin' fault! I just told you to back off Aron!"

Upon hearing the word "Aron", Jorel's eyes widened. "Yo, what the fuck happened with Aron?"

"This bastard was gangin' up on the poor guy." Jordon gestured to the tallest man in the room.

Before Jorel could even say a word, Dylan scoffed. "Y'know what?" He sneered. "Fuck all'a youse." He pointed at everyone and stormed out of the room once more.

"God, what a drama queen." Matthew shook his head. "That should've been his stage name, Drama Man-"

"Matt, not now." George interrupted, his cold, blue eyes pierced through the younger man's soul.

The bus door opened once more, a young girl with blonde hair stepped into the lounge. "Hey, guys, sorry for bein' late I powdered my nose and fucked a bitch."

"'Rina, not now." George glared at the dame.

"Woah, what happened?" Arina raised an eyebrow.

"Dylan got mad at Aron, I tried to stop him, he hit me and hid at the back, then the guys tried to reason him out, he hit me again, and now everythin's goin' to shit." Jordon briefly explained. "If I were you, I'd stay here if you want to avoid trouble."

"Yikes." Arina hissed.

Meanwhile, the tall man took refuge in his own bunk, deciding whether or not he should still be around any of those motherfuckers. He grumbled words of slander to himself, practically as an angry lullaby. He then drifted to sleep.

Or did he?

Present day Dylan's memories were quite fuzzy as to what happened after that, but what happened during his sleep is what would change his life forever.

Flashback over.


End file.
